Ransom
by GarrettDuke01
Summary: When Cooter is found beaten in his garage, a stranger is quickly arrested the Dukes are left questioning whether or not the sheriff has arrested the right person.  May have some OOC  I am AKA as Garrett Duke on other DOH fan sites.
1. Prologue

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **First of all, I don't own any of the original Dukes of Hazzard characters. I write only for fun and make no profit from it. Though I do own the characters: **Kristy and Garrett Duke **along with Kristy's kids **Shay and Jamie**. This is the first story of my series that is called: Hazzard Unleashed and do have more stories that will follow The Ransom. On , I am known as DOHNUMB3RSFAN01, but on most other fan sites, I am better known as **Garrett Duke **after my main series character. I write in first person and will switch characters, but will let the readers know when I do switch. Also, I write in present day. The characters' ages and all are about how they were on the original TV series, just in today's world. Any feedback or reviews will be greatly appreciated to let me know what y'all think and if and where I need to approve on my writing. Thanks for taking the time to read or look at my story!_

_**PROLOGUE **_

"Garrett Duke," the man's hardened cold voice sends chills racing up and down my back a moment before a large hand lands upon my tense shoulder. "Slowly turn around, "the cold voice continues to whisper in my ear, "keep your hands in sight and don't do anything stupid."

Taking a long drink of my bottle of beer, I slowly glance up at the big TV to allow thoughts to rush through me. Thoughts of the fun-filled events of last night, to who could be behind me, and thoughts of ways to escape. Glancing across the splintered bar, I sigh heavily at seeing all the people gathered around to watch today's race, as there is every race day. Abruptly, the man applies pressure to my shoulder to send sparks of pain down my arm. "Now Garrett," he hisses impatiently into my ear.

I slowly nod before I hesitantly turn myself around on my barstool to find four tall and muscular men dressed in dark blue police uniforms, standing a foot in front of me. "Officer Durbank," I flash a smile at the officer standing in the middle, the one standing directly in front of me. I allow a moment of silence to build as I cautiously take him in as well as the other three officers. Turning my attention back to Officer Durbank, I slowly break the silence, "long time, no see."

"Too long," he huffs as he crosses his muscular arms across his thick chest. "This time," he pauses as a bold smile spreads across his aged face, "we got you by the book."

"You think, huh?" I slowly question him while I elbow Landon on my right as well as elbowing Rod who sits to my left.

"No," his smile broadens as he glances across at the other officers for support before eyeing me with hardened green eyes, "we know."

"You can always wish," I quickly throw back at him before glancing at both Rod and Landon to find them still watching the race. Turning back to Durbank, I slowly lean back against the bar before saying. "Meanwhile, what you want from me? Or is this a friendly visit to go over the past? You know, the good ol' days."

His arms flex as his dark eyes cloud over with intense anger before he quickly takes a threatening step closer to me. "You -"

"What is it, Garrett?" Landon snaps at me to interrupt Durbank as he half watches the TV while listening to me.

Continuing to stare at Durbank, I slowly respond, "We've got some rude company behind you."

"Rude company?" Landon questions distantly before slowly glancing over at me and I motion behind him. "Damn," I hear Landon cuss under his breath a moment after turning around to find the four officers behind him. A forced smile spreads across his face before he says, "Good afternoon officers. You here for the race? It's a great race with thirty-six laps left to go with -"

"We've got better things to do than to waste time on a dumb race," the officer in front of him smirks, causing anger to flare in Landon's bright blue eyes. "We're here to bring you all to where you deserve to be at."

"Yeah," the officer next to him chimes in, "to jail."

Silence explodes between us as the announcers from the TV begin to talk excitedly about an accident to cause several people to yell out in anger. Slowly, I glance over to the TV in the near corner to watch the replay of a car slamming two cars into the wall, forcing all the other cars to drive far down through their cloud of smoke to avoid the accident. "Damn it!" Rod explodes besides me, jumping off his stool before turning to me, "you see that, Garr? I was betting on him to win!"

"Well Rod, I hate to break it to you, but he ain't going to win today," I sigh heavily as I continue to watch Durbank, "I also hate to be the one to inform you that we got some unwanted company."

Rod's excitement quickly disappears as he stares at me for a moment before turning around to stare at the officer who stands in front of him. "Damn it," he says aloud before sitting back down on his stool.

"Don't sound so happy to see us," the officer in front of him quickly responds," Where's the rest of you at? We saw their vehicles outside, so we know they're here."

"Don't know, "I quickly respond as I sit up in my stool, "we're not their babysitters, we're here to watch the race."

"You haven't changed, have you Garrett? Same friends, same car, and the same bad attitude," Durbank throws back at me.

"Why'd I want to change perfection for, Durbank?" I shrug at him, "look Durbank," I slowly continue while I grab my pack of cigarettes and my lighter out of my chest pocket, "I am tired of your games. Tell us why you and your friends are here for or stop harassing us and leave where you came in at."

Once again a broad smile spreads across his face as his arms drop to his thick, leather gun belt. "I'll be glad to tell you why we're here for, Garrett. I've only waited six years to say this to you," he pauses as I light my cigarette before letting out a puff of smoke at him. "You all," he goes silent momentarily as he slowly looks at all of us before his attention once again falls upon me. "Are under arrest for breaking and entering, theft, and vandalism of Gary's Auto parts Store."

"You are really fishing for charges there," I quickly throw back at him as adrenaline begins to build within me, "we don't and won't have a thing to do with Gary or any of his low life thug friends. Not alone with his trashy store. Sorry Durbank, I guess you'll have to go back to fishing."

"Is that right, Duke? That why we found his stolen auto parts on your vehicles? Or why we found Rod's, Landon's, Zavier's, and Aaron's fingerprints within the store? We didn't find your fingerprints, Garrett," he shrugs at me, "but the way we see it, Is that you were the get away driver. A neighbor down the street from the store has identified your car going by just around the time of the theft."

"You've got nothing," I blow smoke in his face, "that car could belong to anyone. I'd love to say that I'm a lone owner of a car as my own, but I've seen a few others out there."

"Maybe so, but that don't explain the stolen tires and windshield we just found on your car. Now does it? As I said, it's all by the book," he smiles at me, "so why don't you tell me where the rest of you is at? We know they are here, we found their cars in the parking lot."

"As I said," I mimic him, "I'm not their babysitter."

"Your choice if you want to take the fall for them," he shrugs as he yanks his handcuffs out and the other three officers does the same. "All three of you, turn around and put your hands behind your back."

I silently watch as Rod and Landon reluctantly steps off their stools to slowly turn around and placing their hands behind their head. I grunt in surprise as Durbank roughly grabs my upper arm to harshly yank me off of my stool. Shoving him away from me, I say, "Hang on Durbank, let me put out my cigarette." He glares at me as I take a last inhale of my cigarette before blowing smoke at him once again. "Sorry Durbank," I apologize before throwing my cigarette at him and he yells in pain and surprise as it lands upon his lower right arm. Jumping back, he quickly brushes it off of him before yanking his gun out of it's holster.

"All right Duke," he forces a smile as he quickly steps forward, "you want to do it the hard way? We an do it the hard way."

"Not this time," I hiss at him as I quickly grab onto Landon's handcuffed arm who grunts in surprise. "Sorry Landon," I whisper into Landon's ear before I abruptly throw Landon at Durbank before I quickly shove another officer away to begin running in between people to get to the back door.

Breathing heavily, I quickly run out into the chilly spring late afternoon to find the officers ' cars parked haphazardly to the left. Quickly turning to the right, I jump in surprise as a loud voice yells from behind, "Freeze!"

Startled, I slowly come to a stop to slowly turn around to find an younger officer standing a few feet behind me with his gun pointed at me. "Damn, how many are there?" I sarcastically ask as he cautiously approaches me.

"Obviously, not enough. Turn around and put your hands behind your head," he demands.

I sigh heavily in defeat as I slowly do as I am told to do while listening to him put his gun away while taking out his handcuffs. As his sweaty hand grabs my wrist, I heavily step on his foot and he grunts in pain before bending over for me to elbow him in the face. I watch as he falls harshly onto the hard pavement before I once again begin to run for my car only a few feet away.

Climbing into the driver's seat of my Mustang, relief floods th rough me as I turn my car on just before the officers quickly exit the sports bar, escorting Landon and Rod to their cars. Feeling the power of my muscle car, I quickly speed out of the parking lot and into traffic as the piercing siren begins to cry through the city behind me.

_**JEREMIAH DUKE**_

Fear and anger continues to race thickly through me as I stare blindly at the small, thick business card that I hold tightly onto with shaky, weak hands. Disbelief, once again, washes heavily over me as I stare at the two names that lies printed boldly in the thick black ink across the middle of the bright white card. "Damn," I sigh heavily to interrupt the silence that had inevitably welcomed itself into my small office upon the officers' departure. Reading the officers' names that lies boldly upon the card, intense questions ripple through me as the officer's questions rolls across my mind. Questions of my son's guilt that lies deeply within the officers' bold accusations of my son's activities within the last two nights. Questions that sends my mind falling back into the painful memories of my son's troubled past and other times he had gotten in trouble with one sort of authority or another.

Abruptly a dull knocking sound draws me out of my thoughts and relief slowly begins to melt through me at seeing Ricky Lark standing on the other side of my closed metal door, through the small thick window that lies in the middle. I slowly motion in my long time friend as my attention slowly drifts toward the long rectangular shaped window the covers most of the walls surrounding the door, entrapping me in a clear box. Half heartedly, I watch as my well trained mechanics systematically works upon the damaged cars that they are assigned to before I casually glance over at Ricky. "Hey Jer," Ricky offers a small smile across his oil stained bearded face as he closes the door, "Leon told me you had two big men in uniform visit you an hour ago."

"Regretfully so,:" I sigh heavily before sitting up in my chair to allow the card to slip through my sweaty hands and onto my messy desk, "second visit within seven hours."

"Second Visit?" he questions as he sits down upon a metal fold up chair on the other side of my desk where he leans back to place his boots on the corner of my desk.

"First one was at two this morning," I sigh heavily as I shake my head in disbelief as the worry scared across my wife's face looks back at me through my vivid imagination, "looking for Garrett. Asking if I knew where he was, since he wasn't at his apartment or at his girlfriend's."

He looks heavily at me for a moment through his bright blue eyes before he grabs his hard box of cigarettes out of his chest pocket with his lighter. "Damn Jer," he sighs as he pulls out a cigarette before placing the box back into his torn pocket, "What he do this time?"

I stare at him for a long moments in attempt to organize my thoughts while fighting off strong emotions that continue to race rapidly within me. "They're saying that him and his friends broke into an auto store here in town, stole a bunch of goods as well as trashing up the whole store. Broken windows, broken equipment, stolen company van. Pretty much, things were either stolen or broken," I pause heavily as the officer's thick accusations once again begin to echo inside me, "they said that Garrett's car and his friends' vehicles were found with stolen goods on them from that store. The store belongs to a group of guys that Garrett and his so-called friends don't get along with and are known to get into fights with."

"Busted," a small smile flashes across his face before it quickly disappears as he looks up at me and a hint of sympathy enters his eyes, "Sorry Jeremiah, I really am. I just knew this was comin'."

"Yeah. Me too," I breathe heavily out, "just wish it wasn't now that it came. They came back here to see if he came to work this morning, obviously Garrett isn't here. I called his apartment and his girlfriend's house. Nothing. Jenni hasn't heard from him for three days now, says she was beginning to think he was planning on leaving her without a good-bye or anything."

"Poor girl. She's the best girl he's found so far and all he does is treat her poorly and like this. He just don't know what's good for him, is all," he says before smashing out the butt of his cigarette upon my plastic ash tray. "I'm sorry Jeremiah."

"Yeah, me too," I repeat as I glance down at the card on my desk, "I am to call them once I hear or see him."

"Are you going to?" he sits up in his chair before a greasy hand goes through his thick brown hair before he places on a hat he had strapped onto his belt.

"How the hell am I to turn in my own son? Send him to jail?" I pause heavily for a long moment as a flash back of my own troubled past flashes at me, "Damn, I was the same way when I was his age. If not worse. Difference is the times has changed and I was in a small town where you could get a way with more than the city."

"What about Atlanta?" he raises an eyebrow, "That ain't no small town and we all know the trouble you got into there."

"Except there," I sigh heavily as my older brother's icy blue eyes flashes in the back of my mind, blue eyes full of anger, resentment, along with a hint of hatred; of the way he had last looked at me before I had ran off. His wise words spoken of anger yell back at me as my actions once again begins to replay themselves in my vivid imagination. "Where I got myself into plenty of trouble and escaped from trouble with pure luck. He may not be as lucky."

"Well back then," Ricky sighs heavily while nervously adjusting his hat, "people got away with more than what they do now. All that rime and violence changed all that. We both have done worse than what Garrett is accused of and have gotten away without a look from the cops. In Hazzard and Atlanta both."

"Garrett has gotten away with plenty of his own things," I slowly respond, "and nothing I do or say with ever get through to him. Heck, I sent him to boot camp and then onto the Army where they sent him to war. What he do? He gets himself thrown out and back home when they found drugs in his barrack."

Ricky shrugs. "Well maybe jail would be good for him. Know it changed my attitude when I got thrown in there for the first time. Real fast too."

"That's what I told Rosa which had started a fight between us. She thinks it would ruin him and his out look on life," I shake my head in disbelief, "When asked what to do, she only says that he'll outgrow it. Just like I did. Trouble is, is that I was able to leave my friends behind, will he be able to? I can't see them just allowing him to walk away if he ever wishes to do so. Right now, I can't see him changing without a reason to do so. Jail seems to be the only answer left to do. I hate to do it myself, but what else can I do?"

"Turn him in," Ricky boldly responds, "call it tough love. He'll love you for it later, trust me."

"Just like you love your ol' man for doing that to you thirty years ago, right?" I quickly throw back at him before slowly growing serious, "I'll have to do something that's for damn sure."

"Hey Jer, if there is anything I can do, tell me. You know I'm here for you," he starts to say before his small cell phone begins to ring on his hip.

"Thanks Ricky," I say as he starts to stand up while taking it off it's clip, "if you see Garrett, make sure he makes his way to my office; even if you have to knock him out to do so."

He flashes a smile at me and nods before opening the phone and says, "Ricky Lark here." It goes back to thick silence as he walks out into the garage and closes the door behind him.

_**~GARRETT DUKE~**_

A steady rush of emotions heavily floods through me as I stare blindly through my bug splattered windshield at the small and old garage that lies across the paved parking long. For a long while I glare through the dark shadowy garage to watch several well talented mechanics working systematically upon the damaged cars that are parked within. Sucking nervously upon my half smoked cigarette, I hesitantly direct my attention towards the far right corner where my dad's office lies to find him sitting behind his desk; looking to be working on his worn computer or working on paper work. I sigh heavily as my thoughts once again fall upon last night's events of being caught and escaping from the local law enforcement while watching them drag away a couple of my best friends. Dragging them away to spend the next several years in jail while I escaped thinking of only myself.

"Damn it," I hiss in frustration as I flick the butt of my cigarette out through my open window as my dad stands up from behind his desk to yank my attention away from last night and on what lies ahead. Once again, dread thickly flows through me at the thought of walking in and facing my father and his stubborn temper and I slowly begin to wonder if I should just turn around. Struggling with the thought of turning around and giving up, I quickly open my door to step out into the bright sunny summer day to slowly look around the familiar surroundings while I silently close the door.

"Hey Garrett," Jed offers a sympathetic smile as I hesitantly trade in the bright summer sun for the dark shadows that linger heavily within the stuffy garage. Abruptly, the normal background noise that normally filters through the garage comes to a halt as they stop what they were doing to bring an awkward thick silence across the garage. Nodding at Jed, I slowly begin to look around to find everyone intently watching me with a growing anticipation of what will happen next with a hint of surprise. "Good luck." Jed silently says towards me.

I slowly nod at him as I silently begin to wonder what they all know, bringing a sense of panic rushing through me. If one were to call Durbank. . .

"Garrett!" a loud voice echoes throughout the garage to shatter everyone's silence and my thoughts while forcing my heart to an abrupt halt with surprise and fear. Grudgingly I glance up from Jed to find Ricky standing in the back of the garage urgently motioning me to come to him while staring at me with angered eyes. "Come here!"

Staring back at my dad's best friend and supervisor, I quickly take a deep breath as intense anger explodes within me, anger that quickly rushes into resentment. Resentment of the authority that he notoriously abuses upon everyone under him and his attitude he holds against me. "As I said," Jed says with more sympathy, "good luck."

I nod back at him before a pounding directs my attention back onto Ricky who impatiently hits a metal shelf while his own anger towards me is clearly visible upon his body language. Sighing heavily, I slowly begin to walk along the side wall while attempting to predict ways to escape from his wrath or to respond to his anger as well as my dad's anger. Approaching him, I stare unblinkingly at him while saying, "Sorry Ricky," I flash a smile while ignoring his angered look, "I don't know what happened. My alarm clock didn't go off this morning and when I woke-"

"Cut the crap Garrett!" he harshly snaps to interrupt me, "If that were the case, you're a hell of a sleeper to sleep through the cops pounding at your door at one this morning and all the phone calls that's been going to your apartment!"He grunts while shaking his head in disapproval at me while his green eyes seem to stare through me, "No. After escaping the cops last night," he sarcastically laughs, "you've been hiding out. In fact, I'm rather surprised to see you stupid enough to show your ugly face here at work after last night. If you'd be smart, you'd be outta state by now."

"Gee Ricky, you're full of compliments today aren't you. First I'm stupid and now I'm ugly as well," I lend out my own sarcastic laugh at him, "the last one to call me a name as those, later ended up regretting to say it. But hey," I shrug as I glance back around the garage to find them all still watching me, "we all know how you are and how you have a hard time communicating with others. So I guess I'll be nice this time and pretend I didn't hear you."

"You think you're so tough," he shakes his head before glancing over his shoulder to where my dad's office lies, large windows surrounding him. Looking back at me, he continues, "well, you're not as tough as you think you are. I'd be glad to be the one to show how weak you really are. . .love to hear you pleading for your daddy in there to come and save your sorry -"

Full of angered adrenaline, I abruptly send a sharp right hook and as my fist hits solidly upon his left cheek he yells out in pain and surprise as he stumbles backwards into the sharp metal shelves. He quickly stands up with his hand up to his cheek with anger flaring through his dark green eyes before he slowly takes his hand down to find blood streaking down his hand. Blood that flows rapidly from his nose and into his mouth. Recovering from the shock of my punch he rashly attempts to send a punch at me and I quickly duck down before shoving another fist into his ribs to send him bending over in pain. "Perhaps it will be you that will finding out just how weak you are. Weak, ignorant," I say as I send a knee into his forehead and he yells out as he falls onto the concrete floor, "and stupid. It's you, not me."

"Garrett!" my dad's voice explodes behind me to echo off of the brick walls as I send an angered kick into Ricky's stomach. After staring down at Ricky for a moment, I slowly glance up to find my dad standing just outside his door with an angered and surprised look spread across his face while he looks from Ricky and onto me. "In my office. Now!"

"Look -" I start to yell after my dad to be interrupted as a hand abruptly wraps around my ankle. I yell out in surprise as Ricky yanks me down and pain explodes within me as I fall down, hitting my head on the concrete. "Get off me!" I yell at Ricky to start kicking his hand before grabbing a metal wrench off of the ground shelf.

"Garrett! Ricky!" my dad yells a moment before he looms over us, "Enough. Both of you!" He glares down at Ricky for a moment before he lets go of my ankle and onto me. I stare grudgingly at him and then at Ricky for a long moment while feeling the throbbing pain grow consistently in my head and down my back where I had landed. I reluctantly place the wrench back onto the shelf after Ricky slowly stands up holding his stomach while placing an stained handkerchief to his bloodied nose. "Ricky," my dad turns to Ricky while holding out a ring of keys, "I want you to take the call for a tow on Forty-Second Street. Use the time in the truck wisely to clear your head and your emotions. When you return, I should have another errand for you to do for me. A personal one," with that he glances at me while Ricky takes the keys, "As for you Garrett, get up." I slowly sit up to force the garage to blurrily spin quickly around me before my dad places a firm grip upon my forearm to yank me to my feet. "I want to see you in my office. Now!"

I stiffly nod before watching Ricky walking out of the garage to where the tow truck lies parked while everyone within the garage slowly one by one return to their work. Figuring it is over for now at least. "I'm going," I impatiently respond as he places another firm grip upon my shoulder while leading me into his office. Once in his office he slams the door shut to walk ahead of me and glares angrily at me. "He got what he deserved," I slowly break the silence that had awkwardly built between us.

"Is that so?" he asks looking at me disbelievingly, "I guess I'll have to ask Ricky when he gets back to hear what he has to say about that. But until then," he goes silent as he slowly sits down upon the edge of his desk to glance out the window behind me. The window that shows his garage and the activity that goes on within. Looking back at me he slowly continues, "Meanwhile there is deeper matters that we need to talk about. Isn't there?"

I slowly shrug only to force the pain to increase and to spin the room around me once again. Sighing heavily, I slowly say, "I'm sorry I'm late, I -"

"I don't want any of your damn excuses!" he angrily cuts me off as he jumps to his feet, "You know damn well what I am talking about so don't go playing stupid with me, it won't work!" He falls back into silence once again as he runs a hand through his hair, "I bet you know who gave your mother and I a wake up call at two this morning and another visit to the garage a few hours ago."

"I don't know, why don't you tell me?" I ask to receive an angered look from him, "Durbank," I slowly give him the answer he was looking for.

"Sergeant Durbank and his partner Officer Jackson," he forces out while staring angrily at me, "you can't imagine the pain you are causing your mother and I by all that they said that you are being accused of," he breathes in deeply, "not to mention how bad it makes my business look when there is a police car parked outside with it's lights on while they come into my office to see me!"

"So that's what all this is about," I glare up at him, "about the reputation about your little shabby garage?"

He abruptly slaps his desk before he begins to pace the floor momentarily before coming to a stop a few feet in front of me. "It has to do with a lot of things and part of it is the reputation of this garage. The garage I worked damn hard for, too damn hard for to be ruined by your stubborn ways! It has to do with the pain this is causing your mom and the ripple effect your action has done to our family, as it has always in the past," he continues to yell, his temper growing steadily, "and it has to do with your future. The future that you are damn insistent to throw away just so you can belong to those group of thugs you call friends!"

"Call them what you want, dad, but your so called friend, Ricky out there ain't much better!" I yell back at him as I feel my anger accelerate within me.

"This ain't about Ricky or me. It's about you and your activities the last couple of nights," he shakes his head in disbelief at me, "I've got Durbank's story on what happened, now let's hear your's. What happened?"

I sigh heavily as I turn my back to him and for a long moment I watch the other mechanics work upon the cars that is parked within the garage while I allow my thoughts to gather while fighting back emotions. "They got what they deserved. Gary and his store," I slowly start before forcing myself to turn around to face my dad, "Friday night while we were at Marty's Sports Bar watching a baseball game. When we came out we found our cars smashed and broken into. My CB was stolen, my windshield smashed, and my tires slashed. Zavier, Landon, Aaron, Collin, and Rod had similar things done to their cars. They also had cut up Landon's and Aaron's upholstery real bad and shredded up Rod's personal information that was in his glove box as well." I pause as I find myself un-consciencely tracing my scar that runs down my neck. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I continue, "Rod got to his truck just in time to find Gary getting out and running to join the others in their van, waiting for him."

"That's not the story Durbank had to tell me this morning," my dad quickly throws back at me before falling into silence while he tiredly looks over my shoulder. After a long moment, he lets out a deep breath while glancing back at me before saying, "Durbank made sure to make the point that they had found stolen auto parts on your vehicles, stolen parts from Gary's Auto Store. You know what that means?"

"That," I sigh heavily as the pain continues to grow, racing from head and down my back, "that they got evidence."

"Rock solid evidence that places you and your friends being the thugs that broke into their little ol' store and stole and broke everything in sight. Rock solid evidence that will place you and your thug friends solidly in jail for the next few years of your life. Years that will be wasted sitting behind bars for a little revenge. Hope it was worth it," my dad shakes his head while lending me a look of sadness and disgust at me. "Hell, you'll be locked in jail way past Rod and Landon, because on top of theft and vandalism, you've got assaulting a police officer and resisting arrest on top of your charges."

"Well I'm not just gonna sit down and allow them arrest me when I wasn't the one who started it," I quickly respond while fighting off another wave of exhaustion, "Gary's the one that started it Friday night by breaking into our cars and damaging all they could get their hands on. What? You expect us to just roll over and pretend it never happened, let them get away with it? Like you'd let someone get away for doing something to your beloved Trans Am you've got parked in the garage."

"Yeah, well," my dad shrugs, "did you go to the police? Fill out a complaint report against them and all that you saw?" He eyes me momentarily awaiting an answer, not getting one he continues, " I didn't think so. You'd rather take it into your own hands and do the punishing yourself. You do that, you risk the chance of getting caught in the act as y'all did."

"Well then, maybe it was worth the risk," I force a nonchalant smile at him, "I mean we got to have fun while giving them payback for what they did, as well as getting what was due us from the damages they done. We got a three for one bargain if you ask me."

My dad's dark blue eyes seems to harden as his pacing comes to a halt near his desk while his right hand flexes tightly into a fist before he forces his fingers out before curling them back into an angered fist. "You just never learn, do you Garrett?" he yells while angrily shoving his fold up chair out of his way and I silently watch the chair tumble backwards before coming to a stop a few feet away, "Or perhaps you forgot who Sergeant Durbank really is? That he's Gary's over protective dad who's been following you for the past six years in hope of you messing up just so he can be the one to slap the cuffs on you and locking you away within a small jail cell." He shakes his head once more at me, his anger seeming to grow within him, "So what do you do? You go and mess up. Big time. You break into his son's store and steal and break everything in sight, giving him solid evidence and every reason in the book to arrest you. Again." He pauses dramatically, "You can damn bet you won't get so lucky as you did six years ago when they let out for a stupid technicality!"

Silence abruptly fills the small office as my dad runs his hand through his thick sandy blond hair before his attention falls back onto the window behind me. I slowly follow his attention to find everyone in the garage at a stand still and watching us with anticipation of what will happen. "That don't give Gary no damn reason to go and do what he did. Just because his dumb dad is a damn cop!" I abruptly break the silence, refusing to lose ground to my dad, "No," I shake my head to be reminded of the throbbing pain from falling harshly onto the cement ground. Taking a deep breath, I continue, "Gary got what he deserved. Six years ago and now."

"Is that so?" my dad calmly asks as he takes a seat upon the edge of his cluttered desk, "I hope you feel that way while you spend your time in jail."

"They'll have to catch me first," I smugly remark while once again tracing my scar, "which they won't."

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you," my dad slowly responds as he once again stands up and his angered eyes seems to fade into sadness of some sort, "Sergeant Durbank told me to call him once you came in or once I've seen you. Well," he shrugs silently at me, "here you are."

Abruptly, I feel my heart come to a painful halt as reality heavily begins to settle in. Reality of spending the next few years locked in a jail cell with little ways of escaping. "Here I am," I slowly let go the breath I had been holding before staring boldly at my dad in attempt to hide the fear that accelerates within me, "You going to call Durbank? Give your own son up?"

"Well," my dad falls into silence as he nervously runs a muscular hand through his dark blond hair before eyeing me with saddened eyes, "you've left your mother and me no choice." He shrugs before he quietly walks behind his desk to slowly glance over the cluttered mess before picking up a small off white card. "We've done everything we can think of to help you and yet nothing seems to work. Nothing else has gotten the message across to you, perhaps jail time will."

I reluctantly take the card from him before slowly taking my attention away from my dad to look down at the card to find Durbank and his partner's name printed boldly down the middle with a couple of phone numbers below each name. "Damn you too, Dad!" I cuss angrily and as I go to rip the card in half, my dad angrily grabs it out of my hand to place it in his back pocket. I stare at him for a long moment full of anger and hatred towards him before I quickly walk to the closed door and as my right hand lands upon the metal door knob, I slowly turn around and say, "Fine dad, you can go ahead and call the cops. By the time they get here, I'll be long gone...from them and from you!"

He sadly shakes his head at me as his attention goes onto the ground beneath his feet before he looks up at his window and back at me. "You're not going anywhere outside of this garage until I let you do so," he finally responds, the sadness that once was tinted in his words have known fallen back into sternness, "you walk outside this office as of now, Lyle will be bringing you right back in. With force if need be."

He motions his head to behind me and I slowly glance through the small window that lies in the door to find Ricky's older and stronger brother Lyle standing a foot behind the door. "Damn you, dad!" I yell at him once again before turning to stare at him, thoughts rush through my head of what to do next. "I came here because I trusted you! I trusted that you of all people would understand me and where I came from. That you'd at least lend me your protection, and this is what I get for coming to work?"

"Don't do this, Garrett," he firmly responds, "you've done this to yourself. Not me, but you and your gangster friends that you hang around with." He goes silent for a little while as he takes his small cell phone off the clip of his belt. "And yeah, I understand a bit of where you are coming from. I hung out with the wrong crowd and did a lot of things I highly regret. The difference is, is that I walked away." He pauses once again for a short moment, "And I never did half of the things you have done or to the extent you and your gang takes it. One of these days someone is going to get really hurt. . .again. Either it be you, a friend, or someone you hurt fighting against. Then you won't be going away for vandalism and resisting arrest. That'll be assault or to whatever extent it goes. No," he shakes his head sadly as he boldly stares at me, "I'm not going to sit around and do nothing in hope of you coming to your senses. In hope of no one getting hurt or anything worse to happen. No. We've waited over fifteen years for you to come to your senses and yet you haven't. Time's up Garrett."

I slowly shake my head in disagreement before I glance back out to find Lyle watching me with his muscular arms folded across his thick chest, his dark green eyes stare back at me, daring me to try something. "You're wrong, dad," I angrily hiss out before grabbing my pack of cigarettes out of my stained chest pocket. "Nothing has happened and nothing will happen. Gary's the one that started it, we ended it."

He gives a sarcastic laugh. "There is no end, Garrett. I'm not stupid, I've been where you've been. One person does one thing, the other gives retaliation, and then the other person strikes back. It's a non ending process as it has been with you, Gary, and all the other gangs around Knoxville you don't get a long with. If it isn't with a gang, then you all go out and look for trouble on your own. Whether it is stealing something, racing on the highway. . .it's always something Garrett. So don't give me your crap about you ending it, there is no end," he shakes his head as he opens his cell phone, "I really don't want to do this Garrett. I hate this as much as you. . .but something has to be done before it's too late. This is our last option. It was your call, Garrett, not mine."

Lighting my cigarette, I slowly breathe out smoke into his face as all that he has said begins to roll smoothly through my mind, fueling my anger and my emotions. "Your last option?" I yell out at him, "You talk as if I'm a child, a pet, an after thought! I'm a grown man and can handle my own self! I don't need you holding my hand and telling me what to do or leading me to where you want to go. I apologize that I've been such a burden to you and mom, but it's my life! My life to do whatever I want to do with it!"

"Enjoy it in jail, then," he shrugs before he quickly grabs my cigarette out of my hand to shove it into his plastic ash tray. "If I hear right, that was part of your problem with Sergeant Durbank, how you assaulted him -" he grunts in surprise and fear as I abruptly grab hold of his greasy shirt to shove him harshly against his thin walls.

"Duke!" I hear Lyle yell behind me as he throws open the door.

Ignoring Lyle, I glare at my dad while holding him tightly against the wall as he stares at me in surprise and fear. "Don't think you're all that now, do you dad? You think you're so much better than I just because -" I grasp in surprise as Lyle's strong hands land upon my shoulder and I yell out in fear as he abruptly throws me down upon the ground to force the throbbing pain to resurface.

"You don't think you're so strong, now do you Garrett?" Lyle gives me a crooked grin as my dad slowly joins him while dialing in a number off of the card, "Where's your bravado at now Garrett? Must make you feel real strong and proud now that you attacked your own father."

"It's none of your damn business, ape face!" I yell at him as I quickly stand up and as Lyle moves defensively towards me, my dad steps in between him and I to stop a future fight.

"Enough." He sternly says as he stops pushing buttons after dialing the number, meaning he has yet to place the call. Looking at Lyle he says, "Thank-you Lyle, I can take it from here."

"Yes sir," he nods, "I'll be outside the door if this chicken decides to attack again."

"Thanks Lyle," my dad says firmly and Lyle eyes me momentarily before he walks back out, closing the door behind him. "Don't you think for a minute that any of your little outbursts like that one scares me. Because it don't. You're not as tough as you make yourself out to be," he hisses angrily at me, "Understood?"

"What I understand is that you're putting me away. . .so maybe you are afraid,"I shrug and a rush of dizziness once again washes over me, "you've dialed, what are you waiting for? I'm waiting for my escort."

"Your escort?" he mimics me as he rolls his eyes, "You won't be so sure of yourself once you get your sentence and realize that this time you won't be getting out and that you'll be stuck in a cell with a bunch of men who've been put away for harsher crimes that your's."

Despite the pain, I force another shrug as I light another cigarette to blow another cloud of smoke into his face and he quickly steps away from me. Silence quickly captures the room as I slowly walk over to the far corner while looking out the window, watching the other workers pretend to work while watching us. I shake my head as I quietly envision all that will be said once I am led away by Durbank and his men, with hand cuffs locked tightly around my wrists. Momentarily, a vivid image of Durbank and his men leading Landon and Rod away comes to mind and I slowly realize just how mad they're going to be at me. For using them as I had to escape and then to top things off that I had escaped without helping them to escape themselves.

"I never realized how selfish you are, Garrett," my dad breaks the silence from behind me, "Sergeant Durbank tells me that you used Landon to trip him in order to escape." He pauses, talking as if he is reading my mind, "You are always talking about what good friends they are and how loyal everyone is to each other. How loyal is it to use your own friend to escape? I surely wouldn't call that friend a friend no more if that were me. . .if I were Landon." He muses out loud and I slowly turn around to find him to watching me, "I never thought of you as being selfish, but that was a selfish thing to do; especially to someone as close as Landon was to you. Or all that he's done for you." He shakes his head in disbelief, "I'd hate to be the one to face him again, after what you did. I'm willing to bet my Trans Am that he's more than angry at you. And in your line of so-called friends, that angry at a certain person seems to be contagious. If you know what I mean."

"I'm not stupid," I quickly spit out while blowing out a breath of smoke, "and yeah it was selfish and a stupid thing to do. But hell it was survival. Landon or Rod would have done the same to me if they found the opportunity to do. . .as would anyone of my friends." I pause momentarily, "So hopefully with a couple of days, they'll be a bit understanding of my situation."

"Yeah," my dad smirks sarcastically, "lucky for you, you got to escape. Where as they're in jail."

"For a little while," I shrug as my mind continues to fall back onto last night's events and then onto the near future. Chills rapidly run up and down my spine as my thoughts fall back onto six years ago when I had to spend a couple of months in jail before my trial had began and had to be let go on the technicality. Of spending day in and day out in a small cell with four other men and fighting for everything I got or to stay alive. Fear accelerates even more as I force myself to see that they've got me solid and I've got little to no chance of seeing freedom for several more years once Durbank shows up. "Damn it," I slowly cuss aloud to turn my back on my dad in hope of covering up my raw emotions that burns roughly within me.

"There may be another way," my dad speaks up after a long moment filled with an awkward silence, silence filled with both of our emotions.

"Another way?" I reluctantly ask before slowly turning back around to face him where he stands, leaning against his desk, "How's that?"

He slowly looks up from staring down at his stained boots and the floor to look at the cell phone in his hand and back onto me. "You move down to Hazzard, Georgia with Kristy and her kids," he slowly responds, hesitance thick in his voice.

Slowly shaking my head, I ask, "Where you came from?"

"Where I came from," he nods in agreement and sighs before continuing, "Kristy got this letter in the mail the other day," with that he pulls out a folded computer paper out of his back pocket, "from Trevor."

"Trevor?" I sullenly repeat as dread heavily floods through me as my thoughts abruptly change from me to my half sister and her abusive ex-husband. I reluctantly take the paper away from him to dreadfully begin to read the taunting and threatening letter that he had sent my sister to send more chills rushing down my back. This time chills of fear for my sister and her kids. "Damn," I silently say while staring blankly at the paper in my hands, "the damn jackass is taunting her!" I yell angrily to force my dad to step back in surprise, "Not only is he demanding the kids and threatening her, he's also taunting her by sending the letter. . .letting her know he knows where she's at!"

I slowly force my attention away from the paper that shakes in my trembling hands to look up at my dad who nods sadly with fear shining through his eyes. "That's what we figured as well," he drifts into silence as he takes the letter back from me to shove it back into his back pocket, "so," he shrugs looking hopelessly up at me, "she and the kids can't stay at the house any more and feel safe. Now that he knows. . ."

"So you want me to move her to Hazzard," I finish his thoughts out loud.

"No," he shakes his head, "I want you to move down to Hazzard with her. Be there for her and the kids. If he can find her here, who's not to say he won't find her there. At least with you down with her, we know she'll be protected." He pauses for a moment, "She'll be protected down there by family and friends. Everyone pretty much sticks up for one another in Hazzard, but you'll know what you are up against and you can help everyone prepare as well."

I slowly begin to shake my head as anger continues to accelerate within me, anger towards Trevor and the damage he has already created for my sister and the threat that continues to loom over her and her family and now anger towards my dad for blackmailing me. "No way am I going to go down to that hick town!" I yell angrily taking a few steps away from my dad, "If you're so worried about her, why don't you go down there with her? I'll stay at the garage and keep it up."

"Look," he sighs heavily while sitting back down upon the edge of his desk, "I would love to return home and visit my family and friends. Go over old times," he forces a smile, "damn I had some good times in Hazzard. But those days are over due to my attitude and all the trouble I created when I was younger. After all the damage I had done when I was younger and how upset my older brother was last time I saw him," he shakes his head at a bad memory, "I don't know if I could ever go back. At least go back and look him in the eye without being reminded of all I had done and how bad I hurt everyone. Let everyone down."

"That's not my problem. It's your's," I quickly throw back at him and he only shrugs.

"Maybe so and maybe one day I will return to Hazzard, but not right now," he slowly walks towards me, "so it's up to you. You either go home and pack for an hour and so, meet Kristy at the house and leave around four this afternoon or I'll push send on my cell and have a nice conversation with Durbank. I'm sure he'll be glad to hear from me."

"You idiotic jackass!" I harshly yell at him, "You can't do this to me. . .I'm not going to Hazzard or jail! You can't blackmail me like this!"

"Watch me Garrett. Kristy and the kids need your help and I think a change of scenery would do you some good," he slowly responds as he shows me the cell phone, "so what's it going to be, Hazzard or jail?"

I sigh heavily as I glance out the window to look at Lyle, surveying my chances before looking back at my dad who watches me impatiently. "Neither," I sigh heavily, "I am happy right where I am at where I know I belong. There is no way I'd ever belong in a small hick town where there is nothing to do but watch the damn grass grow!"

"There's plenty to do and you'll fit in just fine if you let yourself fit in," my dad sighs heavily, "but it's your choice. You don't pick soon I'll be pushing the send button to tell Durbank just where you are at. You go to Hazzard, I'll tell Durbank the next visit he lends me that I heard you say something of wanting to move to New York and perhaps you headed that way. Which isn't too much of a lie since that is where you always threaten to run away to."

I glare angrily at him while silently thinking of my options. "And I chose Hazzard," I slowly speak up, "you'll have Kristy keeping tabs on me, right? Make sure I don't run."

"Nah," he shakes his head, "not Kristy. Lyle there will follow you to your apartment to help you pack all that you will need and make sure you make it to the house. Then, Lyle and Ricky have both agreed to make sure you stay put and once you leave Hazzard without a proper reason, I'll be giving ol' Durbank a call. That and I'd need your phone. You'll have no contact with your old friends or your old life. . .that is another reason you'd be going. Leaving your old life behind." He pauses for a long moment as his attention drifts over my shoulder and out into his work place, "I really hate doing this Garrett, but you've left me with no choice."

Once again, I slowly turn around to take in the garage behind me to find Ricky parking a damaged Chevy truck into an empty stall while Lyle continues to watch me, awaiting for another foul move on my part. "I'm not going back to jail," I sigh heavily as I once again begin to nervously trace my rugged scar to force my thoughts back upon the knife fight I had badly lost years ago. "I guess," forcing my hand away from the scar I run a hand through my gelled hair before turning to face my dad once again, "that leaves Hazzard."

"Great," he lets go a deep sigh of relief while snapping his phone shut, "I appreciate this and I know so does Kristy and the kids. I hate," he pauses once more as he steps up to me, "doing this to you, but I don't see any other option."

"So you've said," I respond as I attempt to shove thoughts of myself aside for my sister to only force my anger to arise within me towards Trevor, "though I'd love to get my hands on Trevor and show -"

"I think we all would," he nods as he takes a step back while placing the phone back into it's clip, "but Trevor is too clever for that. So until then we need to make sure Kristy and the kids are safe. Hazzard is a safe place," he cuts himself short, "you'll get to meet your Uncle Jesse and a couple of cousins. And," he goes silent as he turns his back to me while his shoulders seem to shag. Turning back to me he slowly continues, "and you'll get to meet your twin brother."

"Twin brother?" I ask as shock ripples through my body as I watch him nodding.

"As you know you were born two months premature. So was he, but he had health problems and was the weaker of you two. Both were addicted to drugs due to your mother and I's bad habits," he pauses as he stares into space, looking back into his past, "and you both were born addicted. We were going to put you both up for adoption, but after a couple of visits with you, your mom couldn't part with you. Your twin," he looks up at me, "Bo. Jesse named him Beauregaurd. Your twin was more needy and fussy. Jesse made sure you both were taken care of once he came up to Atlanta to meet us, but especially Bo. They got some bond. Anyways, you were released after a month at the hospital, while Bo took two and a half months. We tried to take him home," he shakes his head with sadness, "but after a week or so, we couldn't do it. He cried all the time, was needy. Nothing we could do would satisfy him. So we took a drive down to Hazzard and we abandoned him on Jesse's porch and ran, didn't leave a note or say anything. Just left. We knew," he goes back to staring into space as he fades into silence a moment, "we knew Jesse would take good care of him and would be able to love him better than us. At the hospital, Jesse would just have to smile at him and he'd stop crying. . .it seemed like the only option."

For a long moment I just stare at him in shock while I allow all that he had said to slowly sink in before a rush of emotions to explode within me. "Does Kristy know?" I slowly ask and he slowly nods at me, "And not me?"

"It's not easy for me to talk about," he confesses, "and especially hard on your mom. All that could have been, all the questions. One of many reasons why I can't go down to Hazzard and face that and all I did. Which is another reason why I want to take you away from your situation before you find yourself where I found myself at so many years ago. Not that it all ended badly," he continues, "we got you out of it. But we were all real lucky that you were healthy and Bo wasn't worse than what he was. The doctors were surprised you both were able to survive on how small you were and how early."

I slowly nod in understanding while listening into the silence that begins to settle in. "Yeah," I painfully shrug once again before turning around to find Lyle and Ricky to talking on the other side of the door.

"Well we are wasting time. Kristy was wanting to leave around four this afternoon," he pauses as he motions Lyle and Ricky in, "it's already three fifteen. Your last chance, Garrett."

I shrug as I angrily eye the two brothers before looking at my dad to say, "I guess Hazzard it is. Anything has to be better than jail."

"Good choice," my dad says as he motions at my phone that is clipped to my belt line. Sighing heavily I unclip it and reluctantly hand it to my dad. "Thanks. I'll meet you at the house in another hour. . .your mom and I will take care of everything left behind and deal out your apartment for you. Your landlady already said it would be ok as long as it is ok with you."

I nod. "I see you did your research," I slowly move to the door before turning around, "I'll need the trailer for my bike."

"I figured on much. Lyle already has your bike loaded onto it at the house along with a few other things at the house we thought you might want," my dad nods at me before I slowly walk back out into the garage. Slowly making my way to the parking lot I reluctantly take everything in as everyone is either working or pretending to work while watching me. I wave to a couple of friends before I walk back out into the sunny afternoon to find Lyle's big truck parked next to my car.

"Ricky will be riding with you," Lyle snorts as he digs out his keys, "so don't get lost."

_**~KRISTY DUKE~**_

Raw emotions continue to build thickly through me as I stare in disbelief at my truck and at the loaded extended bed, loaded with boxes of all shapes and sizes. Boxes full of clothes, toys, and other accessories that we had spent the long morning dreadfully packing. "Why are you crying, mommy?" my three and a half year old daughter innocently asks me while pulling on the bottom of my untucked shirt. "You said you were excited to move to . . ." she goes silent as she looks at me for a thoughtful second, "Where are we moving to?"

"Hazzard, Georgia," I smile at her while drawing her into a tight hug while forcing myself to shove back the emotions that tug at me, "and I am excited. It is just hard for mom to say good-bye sometimes."

She nods understandably at me as she slowly lets go to take a step back, taking everything in with her green eyes for a hint of uncertainty crosses her slightly freckled face. "Well Grandma says," she slowly comes to a stop as she turns around to watch Rosa shove the screen door open with a shoulder before walking out into the summer heat with Shay in her arms. Turning back to me, Jamie continues, "Grandma says her and Grandpa will visit us as much as they can. Isn't that right, Grandma?"

"You can't get rid of us that easy," Rosa forces a worried smile as she lends a supportive hand upon my shoulder before Shay abruptly throws himself at me and I slowly take him from my step mom, "we're just a phone call away and your dad just called to say that Garrett has agreed to tag along. Ricky and Lyle are helping him pack, he should -"

"Uncle Garrett is coming too?" Jamie squeals in excitement to start jumping excitedly up and down.

I look at Rosa with uncertainty of my own as relief slightly flows through me at the thought of someone coming down with the kids and I for help, for someone to turn to for help along the way. "Garrett moving to Hazzard?" I slowly ask in disbelief and she slowly nods to force a look of sadness through her brown eyes, "How'd he get that to happen?"

Rosa shrugs as she silently watches Jamie run to a plastic climb and slide equipment a few feet away before looking back at me. "By blackmailing him," she slowly continues to explain of their two o'clock visit this morning by the Knoxville police and of the police showing up at the garage asking about Garrett, "Jeremiah gave Garrett the option of moving to Hazzard with you and the kids, in order to remove him from everything that's going on here, or jail time." She sighs heavily as she fades into silence as my dad's car comes into sight. Turning back to me she says, "He reluctantly chose Hazzard. He'll be unhappy about it. . .I hope it won't cause too much trouble with you."

I nod in understanding as my dad's car pulls along side the curb while I silently envision Garrett in a small town and away from the city life he loves and has lived his whole life in. "No trouble here. I'm glad to have someone to tag along with," I force a smile as my dad approaches with his hands in his pocket and a look of stress wrote across his face, "I'm just sorry to hear him back in trouble and having to be black mailed into do it against his will. Hopefully he will like it there."

"He'll have to," my dad smiles back as he takes Shay from me who laughs while pulling at his nose, "or return to jail. I don't know what else to do with him." He shakes his head in disbelief for a moment as he falls into silence while watching Jamie on the slide. "Damn am I going to miss you all. It was great having you here for the past year. . .after so many years apart. I'm sorry I was absent for so many years. . .for disappearing like I did."

I slowly nod as the past year quickly displays vividly in my mind, from frantically searching for a place to hide from Trevor to finding my dad and his wife in Knoxville with a help from a friend that is a private investigator. I was surprised to find that I had a brother who had a twin that had been abandoned in Hazzard due to his illnesses and his unwillingness to be soothed or helped by either Rosa or dad. A year of getting to know my dad after he had disappeared from Hazzard and from my life when I had been three or four years old, when I had stopped visiting Hazzard. I had only been three or four when I had last been to Hazzard and seen my cousins and uncle and yet I still have a few vivid memories of the old farm, carried through a few pictures. Pictures that I had always kept close and visited while allowing myself to dream of returning to Hazzard to meet my cousins and at the time, to meet my dad.

"Well," I break the silence to give him a hug of reassurance, "the main thing is, is that we met back up again and we can put that behind us. We all have our reasons to do what we do and I am sure you had yours back then that seemed like the right thing to do at the time."

"A lot of bad choices and being led astray by the wrong crowd. I guess you can say, like father like son," he sighs warily as Garrett's beloved old modeled sports car comes to view down the road, closely followed by Lyle's big truck, "talking of which, here he is."

"Grandpa!" Jamie yells excitedly as she runs from the slide to my dad to give him a tight hug and he quickly gives her a hug in return. After a short moment, Jamie sullenly steps back while looking up at my dad she asks, "Mom says we're moving." She pauses sadly, "Will you and Grandma visit us? Grandma says you will. . ."

"Of course," he smiles down at her before bending down to her level to gently brush away a tear that began to roll down her cheek, "I'm going to miss you, but you know what?"

"What?" she asks quietly.

"We will always have our memories to hold onto when we get lonely or sad when we are apart from one another. Like I'll remember you by all your hugs and of all the fun times we've had playing with your babies," he kisses her on the forehead before looking up to watch Garrett parking in the drive way, "plus, you can always give me a call."

Jamie nods. "I'll miss you and Grandma," she says before she begins to play with Shay's thin bright blond hair, "Shay will too. He just doesn't know how to say it."

"We'll miss you too," my dad hugs her once again before stiffly standing up, "but you'll love it in Hazzard. All the farm animals, the farm to run and play in. You'll have fun."

"That's what mom says," Jamie smiles before her attention falls upon Garrett who slowly steps out of his car, leaning against his door with his arms crossed across his muscular chest. "Uncle Garrett."

"Hey Jay-Jay," Garrett forces a smile as Jamie gives him an excited hug and he slowly gives her a hug, "how's my favorite niece doing?"

She shrugs as she takes a step back and grins as she notices that she is now the center of attention. "I'm ok. Grandma says," she says excitedly once again, "that you get to come too."

"Yay," he responds sarcastically as he glares angrily at his parents and at feeling Garrett's attitude change, Jamie silently slinks away from him to hug onto Rosa with uncertainty, "sounds like fun, now don't it?"

"Garrett, drop the attitude," Rosa firmly responds while hugging Jamie, "you are scaring the children. I must agree with your father," she sighs heavily, "you did this to yourself. Perhaps if you drop your attitude and give Hazzard a chance, you may just find you like it there. Perhaps better than -"

"Dream on! You can't black mail me forever," he starts angrily as his arms cross back over his chest and his look hardens, "and the first chance I get, I'm back here. Not here with you," he shakes his head, "but with my friends who accept me for who I am."

My dad shakes his head in disapproval and in sadness before he averts his attention down at his watch. "It's almost five. An hour late," he says reluctantly before turning to me, "Tell me, Rosa, or Lyle and Ricky over there if Garrett gives you or anyone else a hard time. I'm sorry I am putting this on you. If it'd be easier to go without him, tell -"

"No, we'll be fine," I try to reassure my dad while attempting to ignore my brother's angered attitude, "everyone will be fine. Won't we, Garrett?"

Garrett abruptly looks angrily at me and then at our dad before saying, "Easy for you to say, this is what you want!"

"Well Garrett," my dad takes out an off white business card, "if this is not what you want, I can always give Durbank a call right here and now. So you better make up your mind what you want and be happy with your decision."

Garrett lets go a deep breath before glancing over at Jamie and at Shay who now is asleep on my shoulder. "I'll go," he pauses heavily before glaring back at Lyle and Ricky who stands a foot behind him before glancing back at the kids, "for them. Not for you or your ape body guards."

"Good enough for me," dad nods in understanding before he slowly kneels down to Jamie's level once again to draw her into a tight hug and reading Jeremiah's cue, Rosa silently walks over to take Shay away from me. "This will be so tough, kido," my dad breaks the silence, "but like you said, we'll be seeing you. Meanwhile you will get to meet my brother, Jesse. You'll have to tell him hello for me. Can you do that?"

"I think I can," Jamie nods forcing on a brave face.

"Oh good," dad says picking her up, "You also get to meet a couple of cousins of your mom's and Garrett's...as well as meeting another uncle of your's."

"Another uncle?" she questions squishing up her small nose, "Like Garrett?"

"Yep. His twin brother. . .which will make him your uncle as well," my dad nods giving her another tight hug, "you'll have to tell them all hi for me. You think you can do all that for me?"

"Uh huh," she nods enthusiastically at the thought of meeting more people and being able to do something for her grandpa, "Say hi to a Jesse, a couple of cousin's, and Garrett's brother."

"You got it," my dad grins at her before giving her a big kiss on her cheek. Setting her back down on the ground he says, "Now go tell Grandma good-bye. . .she needs a super big hug from you."

I watch sadly as Rosa hands dad Shay who tightly holds onto his greasy shirt while Jamie runs and jumps into Rosa's arms where they hug tightly onto each other. Once again raw emotions rush rapidly through me forcing fear, sadness, and excitement to dance rapidly with one another; sadness at having to leave, fear of what the near future may hold for us, and excitement at the thought of returning to Hazzard. Of meeting back up with Jesse and Daisy. "Well Kris," my dad approaches me with Shay, "we'll be keeping in touch with your cell phone. And perhaps one day we'll make it up," he pauses for a long moment before he tightly hugs onto me and I return the hug. Letting go, he says, "But for now, I guess it's good-bye."

"I guess it is," I nod as Rosa joins us with Jamie, "we'll be keeping in touch and things will be OK. I'll give you a call when we reach Hazzard to let you know."

"That'd be great," Rosa gives me a hug along with Jamie, "you take care."

"You all do the same. Thanks for everything, you've been great," I force a smile at them as we all let go of each other to allow another awkward silence to begin to build between everyone. "It won't get easier. I'll talk to you later. You tell them bye Shay?" Shay tiredly says something before I slowly move to the truck to open the door and climb into the back to begin to place him in his car seat and buckle him up. I glance up as Rosa opens the door across from me to slowly help Jamie up into her car seat and they once again hug before Rosa tells Jamie and Shay good-bye and closes the door shut. "Well the kids are all packed," I respond nervously as I step out to find them telling Garrett good-bye who only shrugs them off.

"Let's go if we're going," Garrett says over dad's shoulder to me before he climbs into his car while dad walks back to make sure they've got his car hooked up right with the trailer that holds his beloved motorcycle.


	2. Chapter One

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Once again, the only characters I do own is Garrett, Kristy Duke and anyone else that did not at any time appear on the show. Everyone else does not belong to me and I do not earn a penny for this or any of my writings. I do it for the fun of it. _

_**CHAPTER ONE**_

Exhaustion slowly begins to drain through my numb body as I stare out into the blinding bright summer day that lingers out through the open door of my old and small garage. The fat, local commissioner's angry voice continues to echo off of the thin wooden walls that surround us only to force my anger to grow deeper within me. "Boss," I quickly snap at him as I force myself to stare at he man that stands only a few feet in front of me. Fiery anger spits back at me through his dark brown eyes as his yelling comes to an abrupt halt. "Rosco wrecked," I pause as I take a step closer to him and he cowers backwards, "no," I shake my head in disgust, "wrecked isn't the word. . .more like totaled his patrol car chasing Bo. Now," I pause to point back at the white old modeled police car parked behind me, "I fixed his car, it now looks like a car and runs like car. I billed you," I once again hand him the paper he had angrily thrown on the floor only moments ago, "and now you pay me for the repair. That's how it works."

Anger seems to grow in his eyes as he glances off to the side where his loyal side kick of a sheriff sits upon the edge of my desk, looking like a lost puppy. Looking back at me he points a chubby finger at me before saying, "You've got to have gone crazy if you think I am going to pay this much on an old ratty car as that! I could go and buy a new car for that much that you're billing me!"

I give him a sarcastic laugh before glancing back at the newly repaired police car, admiring my own work, before looking back at the local law. "Good luck finding a car that works for that price," I shrug at him as I fight back the anger that threatens to burst through me, "meanwhile, I fixed that car up as you asked me to. Here's the car, the keys, and the bill."

"Damn it Cooter!" he cusses angrily at me before he steps forward to snatch the keys that I hold out to him. After staring at it for a long while, he glares up with a forced smile across his fat face. "Fine, Cooter. You want to play, we'll play your game. You've raised your price, I'll raise mine. I now add a hundred dollars a month onto your mortgage payment of this here dump you call a garage."

My heart comes to angry halt as Hogg threatens to raise my mortgage to send my mind rolling with nightmarish questions of how I'd ever manage to have enough money to support my garage monthly. "You can't do that, Hogg," I force my voice to stay calm only to make it quiver with the anger that boils within me, "you raised it at the beginning of the year. You know damn well that's why I had to raise my prices to begin with -"

"Your prices?" he huffs at me as his anger comes to joy at seeing the stress he has instantly created for me, "The only prices you've raised was for my vehicles. . .everyone else's has remained the same. You didn't think I noticed?"

An awkward silence slowly welcomes itself within the humid garage as I stare at the fat commissioner in disbelief and intense anger. Self doubt quickly begins to accelerate within me as my thought recoil deep within me of the harsh consequences that may follow the choice I had rashly made yesterday. "Glad you were able to notice that, Hogg, perhaps now you'll connect it with you raising my monthly payment," I abruptly snap at him, refusing to give him any ground or give in to him, "besides Hogg, prices of equipment and car parts has risen as well, if you haven't noticed. Your bill includes the prices of those parts that were required to fix the totaled car that Rosco brought in plus for my time and work. You take it anywhere else, you'd be charged more. I guarantee it."

Hogg grunts in distaste as the fire in his eyes dies down to be filled with the greed that normally shines across his smug face while he works up some scheme or another to gain more money, for himself. "Lucky for you you're the only mechanic in town, huh Cooter?" he winks at me as he pulls out a fat cigar from his pocket with a silver lighter, "I'll be expecting an extra hundred at the beginning of the month. You don't have it, the garage is mine." He takes a step back before looking over at his sheriff, "Rosco, take the keys and go out and patrol. I need more ticket money in order to pay our lousy mechanic your bill for the car you wrecked!"

"Oh yes sir, Boss," the sheriff stiffly stands up to take the keys from the commissioner before shoving me aside to make his way to his car.

Raw emotions explodes rapidly through me as I continue to stare blindly at the court house that lies across the street from my garage as the commissioner's angered voice thunders in my head. His harsh threat sends chills racing down my back as my thoughts ricochets into the future with the dreadful questions of how I would ever be able to earn the extra hundred dollars at. "Damn it," I shake my head in disgust at myself and the hole I have instantly buried myself in only to make a point to the fat commissioner. Now the only obvious option open for me to keep my garage is to raise my prices for every honest and hard working citizen of Hazzard who lives daily under the ugly wrath that Hogg spreads across his town. A seed of guilt slowly grows within me at the thought of charging people more due to my actions towards Hogg's unethical choice to raise the price of my monthly payment. Something I had meant to keep between him and I as I had quietly struggled to make the payments he had been billing me for the past seven to eight months. But if I don't raise my prices then there will be little way possible that I could even imagine making the payments each month and save my garage, the garage I had worked hard to build and to keep.

"Damn," I cuss once again as my frustration and anger continues to grow deeply within me towards Hogg and at myself for being foolish enough to push as hard as I had. If only I had fixed Rosco's patrol car as I always had and quietly took his greedy demands while working hard to meet them, as I had for the past eight months. . .

"My rent would be a hundred dollars less than it will be at the beginning of the next month," I speak aloud to finish my thoughts while I restlessly rise of the hard metal chair I had sat upon after the crooked law had crept out of the garage, "and wouldn't have to worry about losing the garage." Sighing heavily, I gradually grab my small ring of keys that lies mixed within a stack of papers I had been filling out before being interrupted by the commissioner and the sheriff. Continuing to fight with my thoughts and worry, I slowly slip out of the shadowy garage and into the bright summer sun before climbing into my old and loyal tow truck with hopes of calming my thoughts and emotions. Backing out of my garage and onto Main Street, I tiredly look back at my old wooden garage to force my thoughts to momentarily visit the past few years I had spent hard and fun times of working there before bouncing into the future. The future that had became clearly uncertain within only a matter of seconds as Hogg had threw the threat towards me, the threat he clearly planned to execute upon my next payment. The next payment that I now question if I will be able to pay or if I'd have enough money stored up to keep it up and running for a couple of months to give me time to think things through to find a way. Or perhaps in a week and a half I'll be shuffling across the street to hand the one man I despise the most the dream I have worked my whole life towards achieving.

"Crazy Cooter," a familiar voice crackles through the static of the CB player to interrupt my thoughts while I watch the town square pass by before I slowly force a left turn onto an off street that leads out of town, "this is Lost Sheep, you out there Cooter?"

I sigh heavily as the scene of the town fades into open farm land with trees and hills outlining the near and far distance as I slowly grab the CB handle off of the seat next to me while contemplating on whether I should answer the call or ignore it; despite it coming from my best friends. "This is Cooter," I reluctantly answer into the handle and I cringe as I my voice quiver slightly with the rugged emotions that continue to rip me apart. Slowly I take a deep breath in a vague attempt to hide the worry and fear that plagues me, I slowly continue, "what can I do for y'all?"

"We were wondering," Luke's strong voice slowly responds on the other end as the sound of their powerful engine proudly purrs in the background, "if those parts for The General came in yet? Shep has sent us into town for some chores and thought we'd go -"

"What I tell you last night when y'all asked?" I abruptly interrupt him as agitation quickly flares deeply within me towards their innocent question, a question asked with no harm intended. Yet with Hogg's words echoing in my head they seem to pierce through me like needles, only reminding me more of the situation I find myself in. "Look I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you." I slowly respond after a long awkward silence. Guilt once again climbs deeply within me for snapping at such good friends, friends that would no doubt be glad to help me fight Hogg and to raise the money to support my garage or to help me find a way to support my garage. Or all three. They've always been there for me and for a solid moment I reluctantly consider telling them of the argument I had with Hogg and of Hogg's response to the bill I gave them. Of him raising the mortgage even higher. Despite knowing that they'd help me find a way to support my garage, stubborn pride fills me to prevent me from opening up and telling them of my problems and my fears. Instead I say, "I'm out on the road right now and as of the time I left the garage, only a few minutes ago, the mail hadn't come in yet nor has any packages. If not today it should come in tomorrow. If not by tomorrow I'll give them a call and ask them about it. You and Bo will be the first to hear when I get it, ok?"

"Um yeah sure Cooter," Luke's voice is weak with uncertainty, something that he rarely allows to show, "we didn't mean to upset you, just figured we'd ask since we'd be in town and all. Everything ok? You ok?"

Irritation continues to climb within me towards his questions and concerns as I once again wish to be left alone, left alone with my problems and emotions that seem to climb and build bigger by the minute. "Yeah I'm fine. Just am having a rough morning is all," I slowly respond as I stare through my mud splattered windshield at the familiar scenery that surrounds me. The familiar scenery that normally calms me down when I am upset and brings me comfort. Today it only reminds me of all that may be taken away from me within a matter of time if I don't come up with a solution to my problems, if I can't raise enough money for my garage. Without my garage, I might as well as pack up and leave. The only reluctancy I'd have of leaving would be leaving good friends behind such as the Dukes. "Give me another half hour to an hour or so and I should be back at the garage if y'all want to stop by and I can have another look under the hood."

"He's running ok for now at least. A little choked up is all," Luke responds after a moment of static, "but we'll stop by after our errands in town are done. We're gone."

"Ten four," I dryly respond before throwing the handle down besides me before turning off onto Rainbow Cliff Road. Staring out the large hills that rolls off ahead in the distance I once again begin question whether or not I should turn to the Dukes for their help with my garage and the raised rent I'll have to pay. I wouldn't have to ask, all I'd have to do is explain what had happen this morning and would know I was in trouble. . .that the garage is in trouble. Silently I picture telling them and instinctly visualize Bo's temper flying towards Hogg while Luke slinks back into the corner while nervously running a hand through his thick hair while obviously thinking the situation over. Bo was the quick tempered one of the pair while Luke was quieter and the thinker, Bo being the one that normally sank them into trouble and Luke being the anchor to pull them back out of trouble. "Damn," I slowly say aloud to break the silence in the cab of my truck as my own stubbornness resurfaces with plenty of excuses to not lean back to the Dukes for help. They have enough to worry about with Bo's asthma acting up lately, doctor bills along with other bills of necessities that they are struggling to pay, and with farming season under way they are busy. They have enough to worry about and enough going on that they don't need my problems to add onto theirs.

Following the winding road that rests upon the edge of a long, steep, and rocky cliff my thoughts and problems abruptly evaporate as my vision fixates upon an well dented car that lies welded in place by a thick large tree a third of the way down. My heart leaps to a halt as fear races within me for whoever was driving and was within the car when the car had taken the wrong turn down the cliff. "Sheriff Rosco," I slowly say into the CB handle as I park my truck alongside the cliff parallel to the light blue car. Keeping my eyes on the car, I continue, "this is Cooter calling Sher-"

"I heard you Cooter," Rosco snaps over the CB, clearly agitated towards me interrupting his afternoon nap, "what you want?"

"There looks to be an accident," I slowly begin to respond while scanning the area in hope of finding moving bodies somewhere, "on Rainbow Cliff Road. Looks like a car took a ride down the cliff. . .it is stuck against that big odd looking tree a third of the way -"

"I know what tree you're talking about. Anyone hurt?" he questions in return.

"I just came onto the accident and can't see anyone from where I am parked," I slowly respond, "but you probably should bring an ambulance just in case."

"OK Cooter," Rosco sighs heavily over the CB with apparent stress and worry of his own before static rushes over the CB and I once again throw the handle down besides me while opening my door. My vivid imagination begins to unwind within me, displaying clear and fearful pictures of all that may have brought the car down the deep cliff only to be caught upon the tree. More chills spread across my body at the thought of the people that had been entrapped within the closed doors of the now damaged car, blood and death enters my mind. "Help's coming," I yell down at the car as I place an unsteady foot upon a rock in my descent downward and my voice is thrown back at me. Struggling with fear of my own safety, I lose myself in prayer for the poor people within the car as I nervously continue to climb down in hope of finding people alive .

I slowly reach the small landing where the car had came to a halt against the large bushy tree as an abrupt realization of how trivial my problems are compared to those within the car who may be badly injured or worse. The thought of babies and innocent children sends more fear within me and for a moment I struggle with my fear of what I may about to see before stepping to the car. "I'm here to help," I yell out again as I slowly peer through the back window that lies only badly cracked, the door dented and scratched. A slow worm of relief fills me at finding the backseat empty except for a newspaper and a couple of other overturned papers. Sighing heavily I slowly move forward to the driver's door where the window is shattered and the door caves harshly inward to grab my breath away while my imagination grows fearfully worse of all that had happened. Glancing in, expecting to see torn and bloodied bodies, my heart comes to an abrupt halt in fear and surprise to find the front seats to be both empty and filled with shattered glass from the windshield and side windows. Questionably I glance at the doors to find them to be both tightly closed and locked, across the car, both doors locks are tightly held down and the doors shut.

Sighing heavily I slowly take a step back as sirens begin to pierce through the silent afternoon while I stare up the cliff that I had just climbed down before turning around. Looking down the steep ditch a wave of dizziness washes over me with prolonged fear at how far anyone would have to fall if they had happened to fall out through the windshield. After a couple of minutes of taking in the steep fall, I move forward a couple of feet to take in the half shattered windshield and become even more suspicious to find no drops of blood upon the sharp and ragged edges of the glass. If someone had been thrown out through the windshield, there would have to be some blood, some evidence of injury. Yet no sign of anyone lies anywhere within or near the car.

"Cooter!" Rosco's familiar voice booms above me and I am surprised to see him standing at the edge looking down at me, "Anyone in the car? How bad?" Sadness and fear shine clearly in his bright blue eyes from the distance he stands above me, his voice quivering in his own fear.

"No one is in the car," I shrug as I glance back at the damaged car upon the large rock that protrudes from the cliff with the abnormally grown tree on the edge of it, "in fact, I don't see any sign of people anywhere."

He stares at me in disbelief as he momentarily watches the ambulance parking behind his newly fixed patrol car, looking back at me he slowly and reluctantly begins to climb down the way I had climbed down. "You better catch me," he mutters nervously and I watch as he slowly climbs down, his aging body apparently shaking slightly in fear of his safety but of the damaged car as well. After a few unsteady minutes he steps down to stand besides me to look questionably at me before walking to the car windows to glance in the two side windows and at the broken windshield. "No one's there," he says with a mixture of shock and relief in his voice, "and no blood. How. . .where could they be?" He looks back at me with bright eyes full of questions before they fade into realization and of dread. "But if they fell," he starts as he steps cautiously to the edge and looks down, "there'd have to be blood or something, wouldn't there, Cooter?"

"One would think," I say as I approach him, "I couldn't find any and I can't find anything or anyone from here other than the broken glass at our feet and the empty car there."

"How many, sheriff?" a strange voice captures our attention and we simultaneously glances up to find three paramedics standing at the top peering down at us, "How bad?"

"As of now," Rosco glances unsurely at me and back at them, "none."

"None of what? No injuries?" the older one asks with a look of surprise wrote across his leathery tan face.

"No one is in or around the car," Rosco responds as a younger paramedic climbs down with a box of equipment to check things out for them. "There's no blood anywhere. . ." his voice trails off as he turns around to take in his vast, wide open surroundings. "The dang thing didn't drive here on it's own. . .a car has to have at least a driver. Yet -"

"No one," the paramedic interrupts Rosco, his voice quivers in surprise before he joins us to glance down at the rocky wall in expectation of finding blood, a body, at least some sign of a person. "Not even blood. . .only cut glass and a broken car."

"Well if the driver ain't down there," I point down the cliff where bright greenery shines up at us from the creek that runs in between the woods of green leaved trees, "the only explanation I can think of," I pause to look at Rosco, "is that someone had purposefully drove the car down here while jumping out before the car left the road. If that's the case, I'm willing to bet that whoever did it, was expecting the car to reach the bottom in a heap of fire. Instead it got trapped here."

"Why would anyone want to trash a new and expensive car as this. It's a Ford Taurus. . .at least a 2006 model. Looks somewhat new," the paramedic eyes the car with a hint of jealousy, "lot of money just to throw down a cliff."

"If Cooter's right," Rosco abruptly snaps as he turns to face the both of us with anger and fear mixed in his eyes, "it means that whoever brought this car here has something to hide or get rid of or both. Most likely a criminal hiding from the law that knows which vehicle he or she is driving. You get rid of the plates and the car, the easier to become invisible. Damn," he shakes his head in disgust as his attention goes back to the car, "I don't know which is worse," he sighs heavily while looking at us, "someone entrapped and thrown out of the car or a criminal in Hazzard with something to hide."

I nod silently in agreement before backing away from them to slowly begin to climb up the steep cliff I had climbed down only a half hour ago in search of the driver and riders of the car. Reaching the edge of the cliff I slowly glance around the edge of the road and at the dusty dirt road that curves around the hills and trees. "Here!" I yell as I come upon some heavy marks engraved into the dirt behind the ambulance, which is parked behind the sheriff's car and my tow truck. "These marks, " I point down at them as the remaining paramedics and their driver gather's around, "could be of a driver jumping from the car as it made it's decent."

"Either that," the older guy huffs, "or someone was doing some heavy wrestling or rolling. Those ain't tire nor animal tracks."

Silence awkward comes between us all as everyone on the road kneels down besides me to look at the scuffle marks while Rosco and the young paramedic slowly begins their some what long climb up to the road. Somewhere in the distance a large bird caws to force it's eerie voice to bounce off of the stone wall of the cliff as we continue to stare at the marks and down at the car in a mystified shock. Shock of the sight of the empty and damaged vehicle feet down, but also at the marks indicating that someone had obviously had jumped out of the car before it had fallen those many feet down to be caught between a large tree. "Perhaps it's not as hostile as you make it seem, Sheriff," the young paramedic slowly speaks up after joining us to look at the marks, his dark brown eyes glances around his peers before landing on me and back to Rosco, "perhaps the driver's brakes went out, he knew he was going, so he jumped out before the car took the fall."

"Maybe," Rosco grumbles nervously as he stands up from kneeling on the ground, "but if that were the case, you'd think he'd go for help. But," Rosco shrugs as he goes back to eye the tree and the ground far below, "then again, perhaps he is still walking and searching for help."

"That the case," I slowly stand up to glance around the surroundings that outlay the scuffle marks in the dirt, "they're mighty lucky and have good timing." Silence once again whirls around us as they all silently nod in agreement while my heart once again comes to a halt at the sight of prints I hadn't seen until now, prints looking like foot prints and end at tire prints.

"What is it, Cooter?" Rosco approaches me to break the silence.

"I. . .I don't know for sure," I slowly point down at the ground, "to me, that there looks like foot prints that had gotten ran over at some point. . .by either one of us or someone driving by and didn't see the car." I pause to point to the tire prints that the smeared foot prints stop at, "And the smeared prints end a foot or so away from tire prints. Then again, it could be from one of us or someone else driving by, but. . ." I let my thoughts hang as I silently wonder if I am allowing my imagination to draw out the foot prints or if they are really there under the tire prints.

"But highly coincidental," Rosco finishes my thought and I look over to see a flicker of panic in his eyes, "Those do look like foot prints that had gotten smeared by tire tracks and they do stop at another set of tire tracks. Damn," he shakes his head in disbelief before he steps away from everyone. "Well we got to do something, standing here looking won't do us any good."

"No sir, it won't," the older paramedic says with a hint of impatience in his voice, "and if there is no bodies to be taken car of, we must go to be available for new calls."

"Roger," Rosco quickly turns around to eye the older paramedic, his own impatience flare with an agitated temper, "hush it! You have a damn CB in you're ambulance there, " Rosco angrily points at the dusty ambulance, "if you are needed at another call, you'll be the first to hear it. Meanwhile," he pauses to look around at everyone else, "I think we should start searching the area just in case the prints have nothing to do with the car. Someone may be hurt or worse somewhere down the cliff that we can't see from the car or here. It won't hurt to search the cliff and down there along the trees to see if there is anyone down there."

"There's no blood, Sheriff," the younger one insists to slowly quiet down with the steel glare from Rosco.

"I don't care. . .no one is leaving until I am certain no one was in that car when it fell down," he quietly eyes everyone, "understood?" Everyone nods quietly in agreement. "OK then, the driver of the ambulance, you should stay around the ambulance. Perhaps look alongside the road for a little while on both sides. Roger," he eyes the older paramedic, "since you are the one so worried about it, you can help the driver. You two," he points at the younger paramedic and at the quieter of the paramedics, a tall slender man with thick reddish brown hair, "I want you searching the wall of the cliff. Meanwhile, Cooter and I will take a drive down to Creek Road and walk along side the foot of the cliff. Any problems, y'all better speak up now?"

"None with us," Roger sighs in defeat as he shoves his hands deeply down in his pockets.

"I'll have my CB on in the car. You find anything, call it in," he says as he eyes me before walking to his car. Climbing into his car, he quickly turns it on and drives away just as I close my door. Breathing heavily he grabs his CB from the floor of his car and says into, "Enos, you hear me?"

Static responds momentarily before the deputy says, "Loud and clear Sheriff."

"Good," Rosco quickly follows the curving road, "I want you to meet me on Creek Road as soon as possible. I'll fill you in when you get there."

"I'll be there in a couple of minutes, sheriff," he responds, "I'm just a few miles away from there."

We ride a while in silence, lost in our own thoughts before Rosco quickly turns onto Creek road to drive a little ways before pulling off onto the shoulder of the road, parking in bright green grass. "We can walk back a little ways and we should get to the cliff," he says reluctantly, "and then begin searching the area."

"That's what I was thinkin' too," I nod slowly as I open my door and slowly step out, "you want to stay here and wait for Enos while I head out."

He nods. "That may be best. That way you'll get a head start on the search and I can direct Enos to where I am parked and fill him in on what we are doing. Figure the more the better." He shakes his head in disbelief once again, "Damn."

"I agree, Sheriff," I nod before I slowly turn my back to begin walking into the thick woods while I once again lose myself in prayer. Perhaps the young paramedic was right by hoping that the brakes had gone out and the driver had jumped out in time to save himself from the violent fall his car had taken and is on his way for help right now. Or perhaps, knowing that his brakes had gone out and that the cliff was coming up, he had called for help beforehand, which would explain the foot prints leading to another set of tracks. Or perhaps the driver had fallen out of the car and now lies somewhere badly injured or dead from the deadly leap his car had taken. Or perhaps Rosco is right, perhaps the car was driven off the cliff intentionally in hope of losing the car along with any evidence the car had held against him or her, making whoever it is a criminal of some sort and on the run from the law. It wouldn't be the first time someone had intentionally ran a vehicle over Rainbow Cliff in order to shred valuable evidence and to become more hidden from the law.

Reaching the easy flowing thick creek that interrupts the green, thick woods that line most of Rainbow Cliff, I glance up at the tan cliff wall that protrudes thick rocks while other areas remain flat and sharp. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary I slowly step into the creek to feel the chilly water sinking into my old boots and through my jeans, feeling the flow against my legs as I walk across the rocky creek, chills spread up and down my body. After a short moment, I step up the bank of the creek and begin walking towards the cliff, anticipating what I may find or not find. Sighing heavily, I pull out my pocket watch to find that I've been gone from town well over the half hour I had told Luke and more worry slowly begins to add onto the worry that I've been full of for all who could have been in the car. Walking through the shrubbery and weeds, I am reminded of the troubles I had found myself in before all of this, of the reason I had been driving. I wasn't out on a call, but was driving to clear my head, to calm my emotions, and in hope of finding a solution to the problem I had dug myself into. Now I silently begin to worry about my garage and customers that may be trying to find me to work on their cars or to ask me questions or simply for gas. My mind begins to recall all the appointments I had on my calender for this afternoon for normal tune-ups and changes to only recall a few names and times. Only a few, but each and every customer is important to my business and anger begins to reside within me towards missing them and making them angry by not being there for them; for them and anyone else who may need something fixed or changed or gas.

I sigh heavily as I shoo away pesky flies and mosquitos forcing myself to recall why I am here and the importance of finding the car I had found. There still could be someone hurt or worse that needs my help and if I hadn't taken the drive, who knows how long it would have taken for someone to spot the car. It hadn't been well seen from the road, but I had seen it coming at the right angle, if I had looked away for a second at that instance, I too would have missed it. Once they all hear why I wasn't at the garage and that I was helping with an accident, they all would understand and be supportive. Another important reason why having an assistant at the garage would come in very helpful and handy, I could be out on calls or helping someone and the assistant could be at the garage, or vice versa. If only I had the money. . .

My thoughts slowly and reluctantly cut themselves off as I reach the tall stony wall to bring my thoughts back to the car that hangs upon the sharp rock and against the tree and worry builds within finding an injured person. After a long few minutes of walking alongside the cliff and searching, walking in and out of the woods to search a few feet away from the cliff as well as besides the cliff, I reach directly below the car. Looking up at the car I spot Roger and the driver walking along the side of the road along with the other two paramedics climbing the cliff, up and down, looking for any evidence of someone. Looking back at the ground I slowly walk directly straight into the woods for several feet and walk around within the woods looking for something.

"Cooter," Rosco breaks the thick natural silence from behind me after about ten minutes of searching below the car. I slowly glance around to find him walking besides Enos who grimly smiles at me before his attention goes onto the ground in his own search. "You find anything?"

"Nothing," I slowly shake my head before my attention goes up onto the men searching above us. Looking back at Rosco I respond, "nothing at all."

"Same here. I called in at Roger before Enos and I began out," he shakes his head before watching Enos leave his side to look deeper into the woods. Looking at me he continues, "and nothing there with them on the road or on the cliff. I don't know Cooter."

I nod in agreement as we begin to walk together looking at our surroundings as we go along. "How vague and smeared they may be," I slowly begin, "it seems clear to me, that, that car took off without a soul in it. That the driver had jumped out right before the car had taken off, whether if it was the brakes or a criminal with hopes of damaging evidence against him. And no one seeing anything. . ."

"Only seems to confirm it," Rosco sadly nods while finishing my thoughts again, "as I said earlier, I don't know which is worse. Someone within the car as it taken off or a criminal throwing the car off the cliff to help hide himself and evidence here in Hazzard. I guess criminal could be caught and taken to jail while still being alive and uninjured. My question being what kind of criminal it is and the damages he'll do in Hazzard."

Once again I silently nod as my mind drifts from what he has just said to all I had to worry about before turning around that curve to find the car; of losing my garage and of the customers I am now turning away for now by not being there. "Could go either way I guess. Best hope is that the paramedic is right. That it was the brakes that went out and the guy went walking for help," I suddenly come to a halt as I realize I hadn't told Rosco of another possibility, "or knowing the brakes went out and the cliff was coming up, perhaps the driver had called ahead for help to come get him. Which would explain the foot prints leading to tire prints."

"I didn't think of that," Rosco says with a flicker of hope in his eyes, "but you would think they'd call in help if that were the case. But perhaps he didn't have a number to call if it was from out of town and didn't have a CB. Perhaps they're looking for the garage or the sheriff's station. . .perhaps they're there now."

I shrug at him as Enos returns with sadness drowning his brown eyes as he gloomily looks at us before shaking his head to say he didn't find anything either. "Talking of my garage," I finally say after looking up at the guys ahead and back at the law, "I have several customers lined up for this afternoon and need to be there for the gas pumps and other customers. I could tow the car back to the garage to take a look at it if you wish. Either way I should get back to the garage sometime before too many people get upset."

Rosco nods in understanding as he looks up at the car. "OK Cooter," he silently responds, "tow the truck back to your garage, but don't touch anything. Until someone comes in to claim it, it should be held as evidence."

I nod. "OK Rosco," I take a step back, "so is it ok to leave or you need any help?"

"Looks as if there's nothing else to do. Enos," Rosco looks at his deputy, "take Cooter to his truck and get a report from the crew on the road."

"Yes sir."

The silence that has built within the crowded and stuffy Mercury only forces Max's anxiety to increase dramatically within his tense body as he stares out through the passenger window. He feels himself beginning to tap his feet obnoxiously against the dark floor mats while he runs a rough, callused hand over his handsome face. Questions once again begin to cross his twisted mind of the operation he had so carefully planned while lying entrapped in an ugly and abandoned warehouse where his gang had hid for the past few years. Thoughts of leaving the old warehouse only brings a tinge of sadness through him as he slowly realizes they could never go back now that the feds had found them there a few days ago. "Damn it," he hears himself cuss aloud as his agitation grows wildly within him. First they get kicked out of their well lived in home, leaving valuable things behind, and now they are lost within a small hick town in search of a new hide out for him and his men. Dread fills his tired body as he silently takes account of all the things they had to leave behind in their haste to leave the large and dark building, things that the feds would be more than glad to store for them as evidence against them.

"What is it, Boss?" Sergio asks from behind the wall. Dark expensive shades covers his dark and intense eyes as he eyes the dirt road ahead of him while he taps the black steering wheel nervously with his right index finger.

"Everything," Max lets out a deep breath he hadn't realized he had been holding in as he stares into the dark woods that surrounds his side of the road. "Randal call in yet as to where they took the kid to?" Max asks, despite knowing the answer. If he were to call, he'd hear a ring somewhere within the car, if not his own.

"No sir," a nervous voice slowly responds from the backseat to grab Max's attention into his mirrored visor to look at the three large muscular men that is wedged in the backseat. Steel, the youngest member, fidgets slightly in the middle with agitation vivid in his alert green eyes that stares defiantly back up at him. "Why Hazzard, Boss?" he once again begins to complains of leaving the city for a small county, "We could drive out of state, go to a city in Florida, Alabama, or Texas. That'd be farther away-"

"Shut up Steel!" Sergio yells back at Steel with anger and hatred laced within each word, "Max had went through that on the way up here. How many times he have to explain to you? You stupid or something?"

I watch as Steel quickly glances away while slumping down in his seat, his hand nervously reaches out to play with his loop ear ring. Silence slowly begins to build back up within the car as Max turns around to look out through his window, his thoughts falling back onto his plan they had all worked on. Sighing heavily he begins to worry of all that could go wrong with the plan that had seemed so perfect only a couple of days ago. It is a perfect plan, but only if nothing happens to interrupt the plan of action that will slowly unravel within the next few days and if no one within the group messes up.

Abruptly his cell phone gives an irritating vibration upon his hip to interrupt his worried thoughts and he slowly pulls the phone up to look at the caller ID. "Randal," he says aloud to allow everyone to know who it is. Lifting the black flap, he places the phone to his ear and says, "Randal. You find the place yet?"

"Not exactly, Boss," his voice is weak and shows sign of worry and stress to force Max to hold his breath once more in his own nerves, "Ronnie," Randal pauses for a long moment to intensify Max's worries and impatience rushes through him, "messed up."

"Messed up?" Max's voice loudly echoes off the walls of the car, his anger penetrating through his voice as he quickly sits up and finds himself clenching tightly onto the seatbelt that restrains him, "How the hell could he mess up! I gave him a simple job to do. . .drive the car off the cliff and to jump out before the car left. What he do? Forget to jump out?"

Silence is thrown back at him from within the car and on the other end of the phone except for Randal's heavy breathing. "Nothing that simple, Boss," Randal slowly replies to force Max's anger to climb rapidly through him, "he jumped the car off the cliff and had jumped out in time," he pauses once again and Max feels Randal's fear of recalling their failure over the cell phone, "but as the car fell, it landed on a large rocky ledge a third of the way down and got caught on a tree."

"A tree?" Max slowly asks before falling into silence as he allows what he had said to sink in, "Never mind. Then what you all need to do is to push it over the ledge it is on. . .I don't care how the hell you do it, I just want the car on the bottom of that cliff and destroyed."

"Um," he begins to stutter, "we can't do that, sir. By the time Ronnie got to the van a tow truck was seen through the trees coming so we hurried up and left. We hid the van in some bushes and sneaked our way through the woods to find the tow stopped and the mechanic climbing down to look at the car," he pauses once again, "soon after the sheriff came and then an ambulance."

"Damn it!" Max yells again as emotions rushes through him, "I gave you all a simple job and you all go mess up! What I tell you before we left?"

"Not to mess up," Max hears Randal let out a sigh over the phone, "look Boss, it was no one's fault. We should have checked the cliff out before just jumping the car as we had, but who would guess the damn car would get caught up against a damn tree on the cliff? We didn't."

Max glares blindly through his window as his thoughts swiftly change from thought to thought. Of the past that had chased them to Hazzard, to their plan, to all that Randal is saying, and onto fearful questions of what to do to get out of the mess they now find themselves in. "Well then," Max takes a deep breath to hold back his emotions, "I guess all we can do is forget about the car and hope they don't find any evidence against us within the car. After all," Max tries to reassure himself, "we stole the car and had it cleaned out before leaving Atlanta. . .just in case something like this happened."

"Boss," Randal's voice quivers in reluctancy to continue, "that's not all of our problems with the car. You know that letter you gave Gage to hold onto and to mail once we get rid of the car?"

Dread fills Max's tense body as he silently pictures what Randal is about to tell him. "What about it?" Max abruptly asks, fearing the answer.

"He can't find it," Randal blurts out, "he said he put it in his back pocket before sitting in the backseat, now it's not there. We searched the van and the woods and found nothing. The only thing we can think of is -"

"That it fell out in the damn car!" Max roars with anger as his mind floods with dreadful thoughts of what else could go wrong while searching for an answer to pull his group out of the mess they had placed them in. "If someone where to find that note. . ."

"We know Boss, we know," Randal says sympathetically while allowing a moment of silence to flood through the phone.

"Where's the car now?" Max forces his voice to a calm whisper.

"The mechanic has towed it away. We followed at a distance," Randal answers confidently now, "he towed it to this small shack looking garage in town. We are now parked across the town square from it. . .we can't see inside from where we are at, but we know he's in there somewhere."

"Yeah reading the damn note and calling the local fuzz," Max snaps at him, "never mind. Look, have everyone stay in the van. I want you to sneak over to the garage and make sure he stays and don't make no phone calls. Meanwhile we are now heading for town and I will meet you there. We can't allow the mechanic to talk to anyone or do anything."

"Yes sir," he slowly responds before relaying to the other guys what he is doing, "what should I do if he calls someone or tries to leave? It's broad daylight here and in town -"

"Hell I don't care, just keep him in there and quiet. Go in and tell him the car's yours," a wicked grin crosses Max's bearded face, "because it don't matter what he now knows, just as long as he isn't allowed to tell anyone else. The hick mechanic won't be saying anything by the time we're through with him."

"OK Boss," a small hint of laughter trails in Randal's voice at the thought of all that Max had implied, "I'll be looking for you."

With that Max abruptly closes the flap on his phone to hang up on his cousin before looking over at Sergio who remains looking at the road in tense anticipation of where the road will lead him. "Forget the hideout, we've got more important matters to deal with," Max says to interrupt the silence within the crowded car, "find the town of Hazzard and the town square. I need to find Randal and undo the damage they all did."

"Yes sir," Sergio says with a sly grin spread across his tan face, "you need me for help, you know I'll be glad to help."

"I'll use you and Randal. Three against one should work out just find for us," Max nods in agreement, "especially against an hick mechanic who will only view us as customers until we start in on him. This may prove to be fun after all." Another wicked grin spreads across Max's face at the thought of putting out his frustration in the form of violence.

"I thought Saul and his group would be waiting at the mill?" Dwight questions from behind Sergio.

"Well then, call and tell him we have a change of plans," Max sarcastically throws back at the large man who glares evilly back at him.


	3. Chapter Two

_**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own the Dukes or the show nor do I write for any sort of profit. Garrett and Kristy (and her kids) are my own created characters that I put in my series of Hazzard Unleashed._

**_AUTHOR'S NOTE:_**_ I am sorry for such a long wait. This story has been done for a while now and have put it on the back burner as I am in the process of writing another story for this series. I also have a new computer from when I had wrote and saved this story so I am having troubles getting it so I can open it in order to post it here. Once again, I am sorry for the long wait. I will try better and post chapter three and four as soon as I can get it switched. Thanks for your time and patience in reading my stories...please keep the reviews coming. :)_

_**CHAPTER TWO**_

Pulling my old tow truck to a halt, I abruptly step out into my shadowy garage to slam the door shut behind me to cause the banging noise to echo off of the walls. The walls that had surrounded me for years as I worked endlessly on broken vehicles as well as the routine updates upon cars and helping with questions customers had brought in about their vehicles. Dread and resentment once again begins to build within me at the thought of having to hand all that over to the fat and greedy commissioner as I force myself to look at the damaged car that hangs from the back of the tow truck. My thoughts quickly run together from the threat of losing my garage to the harsh fall the car had taken and onto questions of the driver. Without finding no evidence of a body or blood indicates no one in the car which only means someone had either jumped out in time in fear of their life or had been purposely jumped over the cliff.

Which wouldn't be the first time it would happen in Hazzard or probably the last.

A slow hint of fear allows itself to show at the thought of a criminal hiding somewhere in Hazzard as my imagination allows itself to run wild with thoughts of what all a criminal could be doing in Hazzard. It could be a solo criminal acting on his own or a duo or a large group hiding from the law, from bank robbers to vicious killers. A thick flow of chills rushes over my body at the thought of killers hiding out in Hazzard and I silently begin to wonder what all is in tow for Hazzard.

Once again, I attempt to remind myself of what the young and optimistic paramedic had said about the driver possibly having car troubles and had jumped out of the car in time to save himself. It could be possible, but where is he now if that is true?

Sighing heavily, I circle around the newer car taking in all the damages the car had suffered along with all that lies within the car while silently reminding myself not to touch. Evidence. Stepping back, I slowly glance at my pocket watch once again before glancing at my schedule to find that I had missed three appointments with customers in town, people that are trusting and understanding. Once again, my thoughts fall back onto Luke's call earlier this morning over the CB and how I had snapped easily at him. Guilt once again rises within me as I slowly begin to wonder where they are at or if they had given up waiting for me and had left for the farm already. Taking a deep breath to cool off my emotions, I reluctantly walk towards the cab of my truck before yanking the door open and reaching across the seat. I grab the black CB handle while pressing the side buttons before saying, "Lost sheep," static responds, "you out there? This is Crazy Cooter callin'."

Static once again responds for a short moment before I recognize the elder Duke boy's voice, "We're here Coot," he pauses, "we haven't made it to town yet. My idiotic cousin here decided to take a practice jump over ol' Yellow Creek to force The General to a dead halt." In the back ground, I hear the younger cousin's voice defending himself from his cousin's comment. "I tol' him not to push it with how The General's been acting the last few days, but he insisted that all The General needed was a practice run for when ol' Rosco decided to give us a chase next. Said he was out of practice." Once again Bo's voice is recognizable in the background, no doubt defending himself. "Anyway Cooter, we haven't made it into town. Once we get The General in working condition, thanks to ol' Bo himself, we'll be in. Which shouldn't be much longer."

Static comes over the CB as I feel a hint of a smile reach my face as my problems of this morning evaporates momentarily with images of Bo jumping The General, convinced it would somewhat help the problems their beloved car had been having the last couple of days. Silently, I imagine the conversation they must be having with one another, each one arguing and defending their point of view, too proud and stubborn to admit to any wrong doing. Their arguing is mostly in play and will come to an end sooner or later with them both smiling and agreeing with one another. Usually. "That's a -"

"Excuse me," a low voice interrupts and I slowly glance back to find a tall muscular man standing a couple of feet behind me, his thick arms crossed tight against his thick chest. His dark eyes stares boldly at me to send chills racing up and down my back. "You the mechanic?"

"Luke, I've got a customer. I'll talk to you later," I say back into the CB before throwing the handle back into my truck and turn to give the man my full attention. "Yes sir, I am."

A hint of panic reaches his stone cold face as he begins to nervously fidget in place, his stare goes over my shoulder momentarily before looking back at the car attached to my tow. Looking back at me, he finally says, "That there is my car."

Silence fills my stuffy garage as I stare at him momentarily as an unknown fear slowly and silently creeps through before gradually growing bigger. "We was wonderin' who it belonged to," I finally say, "it looked like it took a pretty serious fall. You or anyone hurt?"

Dropping his hands to his sides, he slowly shakes his head at me before he walks over to the car and silently peeks into the windows. "No. It was only I in the car and I saw it coming in time to jump out of the car. Don't know what happened other than the brakes got stuck and I couldn't move the steering wheel. Knew once I saw the cliff I didn't have a choice other than to jump," he glances back at me, "I was lucky to jump out in time. I didn't know what to do," he shrugs as he takes a walk around his car before winding back at me, "so I just started walking. I saw your garage and thought instantly that you may be able to help me with my car. Glad to see you are ahead of me."

I nod silently as I slowly begin to question the story he has told me and how legit he is. "I found it while I was out and figured someone would show up for it sooner or later," I pause for a moment as I glance across the street at the police station and back at him, "though I can't do much for you at the moment. I got orders from the sheriff not to touch anything until he approves and is sure it's not anything criminal with it. He got suspicious when we couldn't find a body or blood. Which is a good thing."

"Yeah," he nods before he nervously glances through my open garage before looking back at me, "Well look, I understand where you all are coming at," he shrugs, "but couldn't you just tell him that I am here for my car so you can start working on it," he pauses as he glances down at his expensive gold watch, "I'm sorta late for a meeting I've got in Atlanta and had been passing through Hazzard to get there. I mean, I could lose my job if I am late for this meeting."

I look at him sympathetically despite my questioning of his story. "Sorry sir," I shake my head at him, "I have to follow the orders otherwise I'd get in trouble for disobeying them. He should be on his way," he seems to shudder before looking anxiously out through my open door. "Something wrong? You keep looking as if are nervous or something?"

He looks at me startled for a moment. "No. . .just worried I guess," he shrugs as he once again moves to the car to glance in at it, "this job means a lot to me and if I were to lose it, I don't know what I'd do."

"Know the feeling," I nod in understanding as I readjust my greasy hat upon my head, "meanwhile, you want a drink or something while we wait? I got soda and water."

"Um. A water would be great," he nods at me and I force a smile at him as my fear and unease towards the man grows rapidly through me. I slowly walk toward the front right corner of my garage where a half size box fridge sits next to my old and scratched metal desk. Opening it, I glance through the lighted box to grab out two bottles of water and as I stand up, am dreadfully startled to find two more muscular men standing next to the customer I was talking to. They both are a few inches shorter than him, but just as muscular and just as mean looking to send razor sharp chills through me as my fear accelerates within me. "I'd like you to meet my friends here," the long haired man smiles at him while motioning to an older guy a couple inches shorter than him with dark graying hair with a thick beard and mustache that seems to hide an ugly scar. Slowly he motions to a younger guy next to the older distinguished looking man who stands shorter than them both with a bald tan head.

All three stare back at me with dark hateful eyes as silence once again flows through my garage and I slowly glance out toward the sheriff's station. _"C'mon Rosco," _my thoughts yell fearfully within me, _"now's the perfect time!"_ "How can I help you?" I force myself to say and the older man sends an evil looking smile at me, "I told your friend that I couldn't work on his car until the sheriff approved it first."

The older one nods silently for a moment before eyeing the open door and back at the bald headed man. "Close the door, Sergio," his voice is thick and full of authority.

"You won't do no such thing!" I yell at him taking a couple of steps closer to him before I see the gun pointed at me from the older man's muscular hand, "This is my garage and I am open. I am not going to be threatened in my own garage!"

"We're doing more than threatening here," he laughs as he nods and the shorter man walks over to the door and as I go to stop him, he throws the safety off of the gun to make a loud echoing noise. "You better stop right there if you don't a bullet in your head." Fear races thickly within me as I eye the gunman to notice the dark haired man to have a bigger gun aimed at me. "We have some business with you and we'll take care of it one way or another. We've killed before and we won't think twice about killing a hick mechanic as yourself. What's the choice going to be?"

A loud rumbling noise roars as the short man shoves the garage door down to force thick darkness to fill the room and my fear to intensify within me. Attempting to hide my fear, I ask, "What you want? I have done nothing with you or to you."

"Yeah, but," the older man shrugs as he steps threatening closer to me, "sadly my men here messed up, which is why they say you best do things yourself if you want them to be done rightly." With that he eyes the long haired man for a long piercing moment before he looks back at me, "And since they messed up, you've got something what I want. . .no, something I need."

I shake my head in great fear as I slowly realize that I have worried about losing the garage today for nothing for today is the day I will most likely lose my life. Icy cold chills rapidly spread across my hot body at that thought and I irrationally begin to think of all the things in my life I had left undone. Things I had always put off and listed as unimportant. Now they seem dreadfully important and now unattainable. "Then have it," I slowly muster enough courage to say, my voice quivering to show my emotion. "Whatever, take it. I don't hold nothing against you."

The older one, the one in charge shakes his head sadly at me as he continues to walk towards me and I step back to find myself cornered. "It's not that easy, we don't leave unnecessary witness," he shrugs at me before motioning his two guards to join him and they happily oblige. "It's time to have some fun boys." He looks back at me, "It's up to you whether we do this as pain-free and fast as possible or take it nice and easy with a lot pain. I personally wish to take it as slow and long and painful as possible. I enjoy to see my victims suffer as much as possible, I just feel bad for you since you were only in the wrong place at the wrong time." He laughs evilly and I quickly grab a metal pan full of thick oil and forcefully throw it at them. They all grunt out in pain and surprise as they all fall back a couple of steps covered thickly with oil. "OK grease monkey, it's your choice to do it the slow and painful way," he laughs as they recover their ground and I find myself entrapped once again.

"You won't get away with this," I grunt as I begin to pick things off of the shelf behind to begin throwing them harshly upon the three men that surround me as time seems to stand still with their eyes of hatred and violence located on me. Struggling through the harsh pain that consumes me, questions rush rapidly through me from how I had gotten in this predicament and for a way to escape and survive their attack. "The sheriff," I grunt as I throw a wrench that lands harshly upon the leaders forearm and he yells out in pain while throwing out a few cuss words as his anger grows in his dark eyes, "is on his way, right now."

"We'll be long done and out of here by then," the dark gray haired man smiles evilly at me as he shoves his gun into his belt line of his pants as he boldly walks to me and harshly blocks my attack that I dart at him with a screw driver. I yell out in pain as he yanks my arm back behind me to force me to drop the screw driver before he sharply pulls his knee up into my nose and as he drops his leg, large drops of blood drips from my nose and onto the concrete. Out of my corner of my eye I spot the smaller tan man sharply coming at me with a bright glitter of a sharp hand knife held tightly in his hand to force a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions to rush through me. Pain rushes through me as I am roughly thrown across the room and into the tight corner for the long haired customer comes racing at me to send a couple of harsh punches across my face before I am able to defend myself. "Kinda wish you went the easy way, now I bet." I vaguely hear the leader's taunting voice as I receive a couple of rough blows to my stomach and I feel myself to begin coughing roughly as pain explodes within me.

"Never,"I force a sly grin as I begin to struggle with the muscular man's grip before sending a weak punch at my fake customer who holds me tightly against the back wall of the garage. He laughs evilly at my attempt to punch him before he backhands me and my head harshly hits to wall to send the room spinning around me and the intense pain worsens dramatically to force myself to wonder when all this will be over with. "I already said, take what you want. I mean y'all no -"

"Shut up hick!" the shorter man comes upon the right of me and he elbows me in the face to force my original attacker to back up a bit to get out of the way. Blackness surrounds me momentarily before the dark room spins around me while I feel the icy cold metal blade of the knife sharply press against my neck while the leader comes to stand closely to my left side with his wicked hand gun. Abruptly my fear subsides momentarily as my thoughts surprisingly leaves my situation and begins to wonder onto the future that stands before Hazzard with them in town, of who else they will harm or worse to get what they want. "Boss here says we leave no witnesses and that means we leave no witnesses. So I'd be saving my breath if I were you. . .since you won't have much more to breathe." The knifed man says to bring me back to the present and to the three men that surrounds me. Thinking of death and losing my life to such violent men, I once again begin to struggle against their hold and punches despite the odds stacked against me only to receive another round of harsh blows.

I distantly hear myself yell out in pain as I feel the cold blade cutting through the skin of my arm while someone grabs me by my hair to smash my head into something hard and sharp. "You don't learn, huh hick?" A whispering voice comes back at me through a distant while blackness conquers my fight as I seem to be falling and spinning at the same time, meanwhile my throbbing pain continues to grow within me as they continue to beat me. Feeling myself losing conscience, my fear grows rapidly through me once more at the thought of death, of losing my life to the likes of these hateful and violent men and without saying good-bye to anyone. My fear rushes towards the thought of all that lies ahead of Hazzard. Cold chills rushes over my body as my life seems to rapidly replays in my mind while I feel them beating me before I slowly fall into prayer for the pain and throbbing to come to an end and for the safety to the Dukes and the rest of Hazzard. Finishing my prayer, I reluctantly give up and the darkness grows intensely darker and harsher before everything comes to an abrupt halt.

_*****GARRETT DUKE*****_

_WELCOME TO HAZZARD!_ The dark green sign looms brightly upon the right side of the dirt road to send a worm of dread and regret that has been slowly growing since leaving my dad's house. Once again, the argument I had with my dad replays in my head, of which we had in his office, to force my anger towards him to turn into hatred at how well he had played me. How he had forced me into moving to Hazzard to fulfill several of his purposes and problems he had been facing. By blackmailing me to move to Hazzard, he has not only provided Kristy and her kids with a hint of protection, but had also gotten rid of me without having me arrested. Looking around at the vast open farm land, the rolling hills in the distance, and the dirt road that lies ahead and behind me, I wonder if I had made the right choice by giving into what he had wanted. Chills sharply run down my spine as my thoughts fall upon the alternative choice I had been given, jail or prison time. Thoughts roughly fall back to six years ago of sitting in the small cell in Knoxville while I had awaited for my trial and the hell I had gone through just to survive the five months I was held with five other grown men. Grown men who was wanted for murder and other such heinous crimes and wouldn't think twice of doing the same to me who had been brought in for lesser crimes than some of them. Being the new guy and younger than most of them, I had been constantly picked on and had to fight for everything while anything that went wrong within the cell had ended up as my fault no matter how much I had protested. The guards didn't care who was to blame, just as long as they were able to punish someone. That someone would end up being me. Looking around once again, my doubt quickly evaporates into certainty of doing the right thing. Nothing could be worse than jail, no matter how I had been played and tricked into moving here.

Silence roughly surrounds me as it has for the past few hours as I continue to look around and keep looking back at the trailer behind my old model sports car to check on my motorcycle. Listening into the silence and at the argument I had with my dad, my thoughts fade away from jail and my new so called life and the past my dad had just revealed to me. A twin brother? My dad had allowed a little of his past to come out into the open for me, such as his moonshine runs and his chase he gave the local law in Hazzard. Never had he mentioned drugs and an accidental pregnancy that left them in despair and with a couple of drug babies that had been intended to be given up for adoption only for mom to change her mind at the last minute. Nor did they mention having to abandon a baby upon a brother's front porch due to the guilt they had felt and not able to comfort the baby's pain and discomfort. Their past being hidden behind guilt and perhaps out of protection towards me. All explaining why Hazzard is held so dear to him and yet seeming forbidden to return to.

Thinking of my parents' lost past, I slowly and reluctantly watch the scenery pass by me while forcing myself to surrender to the thought of having to see this every day. "Better than jail," I say aloud to interrupt the silence and reminding myself at the same time. I slowly come to a halt behind my sister's big four by four Silverado that is stopped at a stop sign and to my surprise, we turn onto a cement road. _"Well, "_ I sarcastically begin to think, _"at least it has one cement road."_ With that, I follow my sister into a town where we reach a town square and is forced to turn either right or left. Kristy seems to be stuck at the stop sign as she remains stopped for a moment to allow me to look up and down the street. Several people walk under the summer sun upon the sidewalks that line in front of the stores on each side of the street only to be interrupted by a few alleys and side streets. A large church stands proudly across the street to the left while off towards the right looks to be a court house across the street while smaller businesses line the side of the street where we sit.

After making her decision, Kristy turns left and I quickly follow her through the stop sign and a car frantically honks at me for not stopping and making him come to a halt. Ignoring the halt, I follow Kristy to a small old wooden garage to park in front of the gas pumps to make me look at my gasometer to find it almost on empty. "Good thinkin', Kris," I say as I step out of my car to walk towards the pump while my attention goes up to the garage with a hint of worry at the sight of the garage door being closed, "but it looks closed to me."

Placing the pump into her truck's gas tank, she shrugs while glancing over her shoulder at where I point to. "Well," she slowly begins before looking into her truck at the kids, "we can go check later, if not we'll just leave the money under the door and hope it's ok. The truck is pretty much on E already and we'll need gas if we are to go looking for the farm. I really don't remember where it is in Hazzard. Dad told me, but you know how my memory is with directions."

"Great. We'll end up in the bad part of town," I roll my eyes to receive a hard glare from her, "OK fine. Your point taken. How's the kids? The trip go ok?"

"Fine," she shrugs, "they have slept most of the way and are still sleeping." She pauses as her attention falls upon the street and all that surrounds the shack garage building. Looking back at me, she says, "Look Garrett, I know you didn't want to come and I know dad tricked you into coming along," she starts to say before the pump clicks in her hand and she slowly returns the pump and closes her gas tank, "but I am really glad and appreciate that you came along. The kids are excited that you came as well."

"I'm not overly thrilled," I comment as my own gas pump clicks and I return the pump and close my gas tank, "but it has to be better than the alternative." I pause to walk up to the truck, "I'll pay for our gas."

She nods blankly at me before she moves to the drivers door and as I reach the walk in door, I glance back to watch her talking to one of the kids in the back. Taking a deep breath to fight back my emotions toward moving to a small town, I slowly open the door to walk into the dark and shadowy garage. "Hello," I call out as my eyes adjust to the darkness, light filters in through the windows from the sun to light up most of the room to display dark shadows. Silence is returned as I look at the old tow truck with a newer car still hooked up to the back before I slowly begin to walk around. "I'm here to pay for our gas."

Silence once again responds to my call as I slowly walk towards the parked truck while counting my money I had within my black leather wallet, thinking of just leaving the money as Kristy had suggested. Walking in between the closed garage door and the tow truck to where the desk rests against the right front corner, I am abruptly pulled to a halt at seeing a dark figure laying upon the cement ground toward the back right corner. Dread and fear quickly floods through me as I throw the money on the desk to slowly walk between the truck and the shelves that are stacked against the wooden wall. Abruptly my heart comes to a forced halt as I reach the dark shadow lying on the ground to find it to be a harshly beaten man covered thickly in blood, his eyes are closed while his body is deadly still. "No," I shake my head in disbelief as I stare at the dead man for a long moment, struck by shock and fear at the sight of the beaten man. I instantly begin to feel nauseated and light headed before I quickly turn away to run back out into the humid hot summer day with the sight of the dead man vividly in mind. "Kristy!"

"What is it, Garrett?" she looks back at me from playing with Shay in the back, irritation in her green-blue eyes.

"Inside," I grasp fighting to catch my breath while point back at the garage, "inside, the mechanic," I pause again and she looks more agitated and impatient at me, "the mechanic is dead."

"What?" she grasps in disbelief.

"Is dead. Beaten to death," I pause as I force myself to look back, "covered in blood and not moving."

"OK, Ok, we have to do something," she instantly runs in while motioning me to follow her. I glance questionably back at her truck with worry for her kids before following her back into the dark garage. Reluctantly I lead her to where the mechanic lies covered in a pool of his own blood. Through the dark shadows that crosses over his beaten body, dark bruises and cuts are recognized under the thick blood while his grease and blood stained hat lies a few feet away under the truck. "Let me see if there is a pulse," she says to no one in particular. I watch as she walks over his outstretched arm and bends down to touch his bloody neck, looking back at me, she says, "He has a very faint and small pulse, but he's not breathing. The police station is across the street, " she blindly points back behind her, "you need to run and get the sheriff. Quickly!"

"But the kids?" I question.

"They'll be fine. It's Hazzard, not Knoxville," she snaps, "get the sheriff."

"But who did this to him is still out there," I throw back at her only for her to stare angrily at me and once again points behind for me to go and get the sheriff. "OK. I'm on my way."

Thoughts rapidly run across my mind as I quickly run out of the garage and out into the open summer day to have people begin to stare at me as I run across the street and up the cement stairs that lead up to the tall and proud brick court house. The sight of the beaten mechanic forces me to quicken my stride as I swing open the glass door to be greeted by cool air condition and an empty brightly lit hall way. After a moment of walking through the hall and looking at the doors to see where they lead to, a voice says, "Can I help you?"

Looking back I find a thin, smaller police officer dressed neatly in dark blue pants, light blue shirt, and a dark hat, his blue eyes shine with eagerness to help while he smiles enthusiastically. Taking a deep breath, I slowly say, "I'm here to see the sheriff."

"Well he's in a meeting right now. I'm Deputy Enos Strait," the deputy responds, "I can lead you to the sheriff's station and offer you something to drink while he's busy. It shouldn't take too long. They already been in there for a while now."

"No! I need to talk to him, now!" I yell to force my voice to echo down the hall and he looks at me with surprise and worry, "Look, I'm sorry to yell at you. But it's an emergency," he gives me a questioning look of impatience, "the mechanic across the street," I point towards the door while fighting to breathe, "is hurt. I went in to pay for my sister and I's gas to find him lying on the floor covered in a thick pool of his blood."

"Cooter!" he yells in shock and fear as recognition enters his eyes.

"He looks dead to me, but my sister said she found a faint pulse," I hurriedly say as he begins to walk a few feet to a closed door and I quickly follow him. Walking behind him, I find myself in what looks to be the sheriff's station with a couple of cells to the left of me and a closed door to the right while a couple more closed doors lies ahead along with a flight of wooden stairs.

"Sheriff!" the deputy bangs on the door directly in front of us and by the stairs, "Rosco!"

"What is it, you lug nut?" the door flies open and an older and taller man steps out dressed in the same sort of uniform with a bigger hat. He eyes his deputy with angered blue eyes before he eyes me questionably. "Who's this?" he points at me.

"It don't matter who the hell I am!" I blurt out and they both eye me in surprise while a small fat man dressed in a white three piece suite and a white Stetson walks out behind the sheriff, "We're in here wasting time while your mechanic, across the street, lies beaten and left for dead! Someone needs to call the ambulance and get help!"

The sheriff continues to eye me questionably while the deputy walks up a step onto a raised floor where the cells are on both sides of an old desk to grab a CB handle. Silence fills the room as the deputy's squeaky voice demands an ambulance to come the Hazzard Garage to help the beaten mechanic while I suspiciously watch the tall and broad shouldered sheriff make his way to me. "What you say happened?" He eyes me for a long time with piercing eyes as my thoughts go back to yesterday and the threat of going to jail for breaking and entering.

"My sister and I stopped for gas," I slowly state, "I went in to pay and found the mechanic lying in his pool of blood. Obviously beaten by someone if not anything more. I didn't get that good of look, I went and got help."

He nods as the deputy joins us. "Lead the way," the sheriff motions with his right hand for me to lead them outside. As I lead them into their hall way, he says, "what's your name?"

"Garrett," I slowly respond before leading them back out into the summer heat, "Garrett Duke."

"A Duke?" the small fat man finally speaks up as he lights a cigar, suspicious and nervousness enters his words as he eyes me with dark brown eyes, "How many of there are you?"

I shrug nervously as we walk across the empty street and up onto the driveway of the garage and as I walk past Kristy's truck, I glance in at her kids momentarily before walking to the garage. "I wouldn't know," I respond as I walk in and follow the garage door to right wall to find Kristy performing CPR on the mechanic, "I've got help, Kristy."

For a long moment she doesn't say anything as she breathes into his bloody mouth and as she starts her compressions she says, "I lost him. He has no heart beat, he's not breathing. Nothing."

"At least you tried," I attempt knowing she won't give up. Her nursing instincts are too strong and she cares too much for people and animals.

"That's not enough," she grunts continuing to count the compressions, "I won't stop until help arrives."

_*****SHERIFF ROSCO COLTRANE*****_

Flames of anger flare from his dark brown eyes as he fidgets within his large leather swivel chair, chewing anxiously upon the butt of his fat cigar while silence slowly begins to filter within his smokey room. Uneasy thoughts begin to ramble within me of all he had just said towards me out of anger while he had taken out his frustration out on me. Frustration at the lack of speeding and citation tickets and the decrease of money he has been making month to month. Blaming if it's my fault. "Look Boss," I brake the silence, feeling uncomfortable with his anger, "it's not my fault nor my deputy's. I mean, we are suppose to promote and look kindly upon our citizens following the laws and safe driving procedures. We just can't go out handing out tickets when they aren't doin' anything wrong. Instead we should be rewarding them."

"Rewarding them?" his voice booms loudly against the thin walls and I slowly take a step back, "My money box is at a all time low and you want me to go and start rewarding people?" he shakes his head in vivid disagreement as he harshly smashes the butt of his cigar into his metal ash tray. "I don't care how well the citizens of Hazzard are respecting the laws and rules of this town. . .there has to be someone out there speeding. Late for a date, work, or a meeting. Someone speeding somewhere, someone parking illegally. Someone littering our clean streets! There has to be someone doing something wrong!" he yells once more hitting his desk before holding onto his hurt hand. "When was the last time you caught the Dukes and gave them a ticket?"

Looking around the small room, I am slowly reminded of how it once was years ago when I had been a respected sheriff and was well known for my accurate and good work I had done with Hazzard. Had put hard and evil criminals tightly behind bars, had only given tickets and citations to those who rightfully deserved them, and had investigated every little thing in every case that was presented to me and refused to do anything until I was sure that the person was in the wrong and dealt with them the right way. Shaking my head, I once again force myself to realize all that was long in the past. The past that has little chance of resurfacing now that I am now looked upon as the good lawman that has long ago fallen crooked and dishonest. All due to the loss of my pension, of money and greed. I had deserved every cent of the pension that should have been given to me, no questions asked, but as falling into the crooked and greedy hands of the commissioner, I had lost my dignity as well as my pension. All to my own greed for money. If only I had. . .

"You gone deaf, Rosco? Answer the damn question!" Hogg interrupts my thoughts and I slowly look at him while struggling with my own anger, my own emotions. I not only had lost my dignity by trusting and falling loyally to Hogg, but I had also lost all the respect I once had from everyone; all for money. Looking dumbly at the fat man that sits angrily in his chair, I silently begin to question and search for a way out of the deep and dark hole I had slowly dug myself into all those years ago. I had been dumb and blind all those years ago not to see all that was coming to me by agreeing to Hogg and becoming his partner.

"I don't remember Boss," I finally answer as he begins to open his mouth to yell at me once more, "I don't remember and I really don't care." He looks at me with anger and disbelief. "Look, I love chasing them Duke boys and giving them hot pursuit...it's all fun and games. But I am tired of going around and searching for _something_ to arrest and ticket them for when we all know they haven't done anything wrong and won't. They are law biding citizens that are highly respected in this town. . .something that we both aren't due to cheating them out of money by greed and dishonesty. I once was an honest lawman and was highly respected by the citizens of this county as well as those surrounding it, all that changed due to losing my pension and becoming partners with_ you_."

More anger flares in Hogg's eyes as he begins breathing heavily with the hatred that is bottled within his fat body and he begins to fidget nervously in his chair while opening his mouth before closing it once more. A hint of surprise and shock is mixed within the anger in his eyes at me standing up to him and telling him how I feel instead of sitting back and taking his verbal abuse he is keen to lend out when angry. "You are even_ more_ stupid than what I had originally gave you credit for! How _dare_ you stand there in front of me and talk to me like that!" he abruptly jumps to his feet while pounding his fist once more on his desk and I jump back in surprise, "For all that I have done for you, this is how you pay me back? Huh? By standing there and accusing me for losing the respect you once had, for you turning dishonest! I didn't make you do nothing, Rosco. You and that pea sized brain of your's was the one to make that decision, I had only gave you the chance to become my partner. You know who and how I am long before I offered you partnership. . .all of which I would never have considered doing if it weren't for your fat sister! Who happened to feel sorry for you and your loss of the pension and wanted me to help you out, to give you support. I gave you a way and at the time you were smart enough to take it!"

I glare at him as my anger rises towards him as I slowly come to realize that this anger towards him has been slowly building within me within the past couple of years when I had slowly became aware of what I had become. "I realize, Boss, that I made that choice," I slowly respond while fighting for a way to defend myself now that I had told him how I felt, "I am angry at myself for falling into your trap and for allowing you to treat me the way you do! I treat Flash a whole lot better than you treat me and she's a dog!"

"An ugly and stupid one at that," he mutters as he pulls another cigar out of his chest pocket, "Well Rosco, if that is how you feel, perhaps it's time for you to quit your job as sheriff and I'll find me a new sheriff for Hazzard."

I glare angrily at him. "I am not quitting the job that has been my life for the past twenty-five years." I respond firmly.

"Then perhaps I'll have to fire you then," he shrugs nonchalantly, "can't say I gave you the choice of what you wanted."

"_Fire me?"_ I yell enraged at him as I take a few threatening steps towards him, "I have highly respected you for the last fifteen years that I had partnership with you, I've been loyal and have done most of everything you asked me to. I've even dealt with you cheating me out of money, because I respect you, I like your friendship," I calm my voice down as I reach his desk, "but I am done being yelled at and treated like dirt from you! I deserve some respect from someone. . .from at least the person that has brought me to the level I currently am at right now!"

A small smile flashes across his face before he shakes his head in disbelief. "All this over a little respect? Rosco," he pauses as a hint of his anger still flares in his eyes, anger that he forcefully compresses, "I'll give you the respect when you earn it! I don't hand out respect to just anyone. . .none like you. Another thing, I don't take kindly to the way you are talking to me. . .you are not respecting me and for that I should fi-"

"Sheriff!" a panicky voice abruptly interrupts Hogg's spiel as a dark shadow covers the window that lies in the middle of Hogg's wooden door. Glaring roughly at Hogg, I slowly walk over and opening it I find my deputy standing in the door way with a tall, muscular man with unkept dark blond hair and an hideous scar running down the side of the neck, standing a foot behind him. "Rosco!"

"What is it, you lug nut?" I yell out impatiently before my mind falls back onto demanding respect from Hogg. "Who's this?" I ask as I point over his shoulder at the young man who gives me an icy stare to send chills down my back.

"It don't matter who the hell I am!" the man yells and his voice rises to a sense of panic and fear, "We're in here wasting time while your mechanic, across the street, lies beaten and left for dead! Someone needs to call the ambulance and get help!"

Surprise and shock rushes through me as I stare numbly at him as Enos quickly turns away and walks up to my desk to pick up the CB and I distantly hear him begin to call for an ambulance. Fear quickly follows the instant shock that had been given through one short sentence delivered by a complete stranger as my mind falls back on earlier this morning. From listening and watching Hogg yell at Cooter for his high bill he was given for my patrol car to receiving Cooter's call about the fallen car down Rainbow Cliff and how hard we had worked searching for the driver and getting the car towed out of the cliff. Slowly my thoughts fall on stopping at the garage after finishing searching the site, ready to tell Cooter that no one was found, only to surprisingly find the garage door closed while both the garage door and his walk in door was sealed tightly locked. Highly abnormal for Cooter who would be willing to stay open all night for anyone who asked or needed his service, to the mechanic who is always ready for business and seemingly happy working on garage.

I stare at the tall man blindly as the short sentence rewinds and plays again in my head before questions explode within me of why Cooter's garage had been locked and closed. I had only shrugged it off at the time thinking perhaps he went for something to eat and didn't want the car to be disturbed since I had labeled it as possible evidence. Now I am left to wonder, if the stranger is telling the truth, if he was in serious trouble when I went to talk to him and in danger. I was that close to him and didn't help him. Chills run up and down my body at the thought as guilt begins to build within me at the thought of not helping someone in need when I was just outside the door. I shake my head in disbelief while sorting through the raging emotions that tears within me and all the implications the car and now this is revealing for Hazzard. "What you say happen?" I finally bring myself to ask, refusing to believe what a stranger has to say. How could anyone, no matter how evil they are, harshly and violently beat someone across the street from the Sheriff's Station in the middle of the day? People are always out during the day no matter what day it is, for chores or leisure.

I quickly follow the Duke across the empty street and up the cracked cement drive way that leads to the old wooden garage before we slowly escape from the bright summer sun to walk into the dark garage. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness as we walk alongside the parked tow truck to the right corner to find a woman bending over a dark object that hides within the shadows from where I stand frozen, too afraid to walk any closer. Too afraid that the new Duke is right about Cooter being beaten almost to death or to death. "I've got help, Kristy," the Duke breaks the silence and the woman glares around her shoulder momentarily before bending over, closer to the shadow.

"I lost him. He has no heart beat, he's not breathing. Nothing," the woman responds breathlessly, rough emotions laced between each word to force my heart to an abrupt halt.

The man who had momentarily introduced himself as Garrett sighs heavily as he fidgets in place a few feet in front of me where he stands a foot away from the shadow and from his sister. "At least you tried," he finally shrugs and I reluctantly take a step forward and the shadow comes into the form of an still, outstretched body to force rough chills once again to rush up and down my body.

"That's not enough," his sister grunts angrily as she leans over the body to press into his chest, "I won't stop until help arrives."

I silently watch the woman performing CPR on the still body on the ground as I struggle to remain in disbelief of all that has been said so far from Garrett coming in and saying the mechanic was left for dead and onto his sister saying she lost him, no heart beat. "No," I hear myself say aloud before I numbly take a couple of steps to approach Garrett. Looking down at the outstretched still body, I abruptly become nauseated at seeing Cooter lying face up covered harshly in cuts and bruises and drowned in his own pool of thick blood. The room darkly spins around me as I blindly look for a bullet hole or a stab wound while wondering if he only had gotten beaten to death or worse, though through the dark and the thick blood, all that shows is cuts and bruises. "Cooter," I whisper as I quickly fall into prayer for the local mechanic. The local mechanic who had helped me only this morning with the fallen car. Taking a long last look at the mechanic and his harsh wounds that may be the death of him, I slowly turn around and begin to lean on the shelf as I walk back into the back corner.

Abruptly a piercing siren cuts through the silence of the summer afternoon as if to answer the prayers I had frantically prayed only seconds ago as I had stood over Cooter's still body while Hogg walks up to the still body. After a moment of looking at Cooter's beaten body, he slowly turns around to walk back to where I stand leaning against the back wall and the metal desk. "What kind of sheriff are you," he hisses at me, resentment from our argument earlier still present in his voice, "to allow a citizen in your county to be killed right across the street from you?"

"You idiot coward -"

"You better be saving your words and time, Rosco. It looks as if you have a murderer to find," he glares at me through his hateful eyes before he turns and walks towards the door, "meanwhile I have business of my own to take care of."

I watch the commissioner slowly waddle through the dark garage before he disappears out through the walk in door while the sirens grow louder and closer to draw my attention back to the fallen man. "You say you found him like this?" I finally says, glaring at the young Duke.

"That's what I said," he sneers at me, full of attitude, "went to pay for gas and this is how I found him. I hadn't touched him, Kristy is only to do CPR."

I stare suspiciously at him for a long moment while listening to the piercing siren growing closer with each passing second before I once again look back down at Cooter's still body. Staring down at Cooter, drowned heavily within his thick blackish-red blood, disbelief and anger quickly floods within me. Disbelief that anyone could have the capability to do such an hideous and violent thing to someone like Cooter to send questions running through my numb mind. What could Cooter have done to get beaten and tortured as he had? Fighting back the rough emotions rushing through me, my attention slowly slides away from Cooter's still body and onto the damaged car that rests only a few feet to the right of him. Recalling this morning's events upon Rainbow Cliff and an icy chill slowly makes it's way downward from my neck at the thought of the missing driver. What was in the car that would be worth beating a man to death over, in the middle of the day, and across from the sheriff station?

"That your car?" I slowly glance back up at Garrett from the damaged car to send more chills running down my spine. Chills in realization that I could be standing only a couple of feet away from the man who had jumped the car over the cliff and has violently beaten Cooter. Fear quickly races within me as my thoughts begin to bounce rapidly within me, thoughts from the fact that we have never seen the damaged car or Garrett before today to the effect all this will have on Hazzard and onto how to deal with a murder case. Never before has there been a killing in my county that I had to deal with, though the question is quickly answered. Call the FBI. Dread quickly erupts within me to join the rest of my raging emotions at the thought of calling the FBI and having to welcome them into my county and to abide to their rules.

"I've never seen the damn car in my life. My car remains parked by the pumps outside, since you know, we were here to get gas," Garrett finally responds, attitude and resentment thick in his voice as he glares harshly at me with his cold and hard gray eyes.

'_A killer would have cold and hard eyes to match the cold and hard heart that lies entrapped within the killer. A killer would look upon any law enforcer with resentment and attitude to help cover up their fear and worry of being caught.'_ A shudder falls across my numb body at the unnerving thought.

Listening into the growing siren, I ask, "You say, you just came into Hazzard? How long you here for?"

"Yeah we just got to Hazzard," he harshly responds as his attention falls upon his sister before looking back at me, anger and hatred filling his hardened eyes, "we got to Hazzard and while paying for the gas we took, I decided to beat the mechanic to death. You know," he shrugs looking evilly at me, "just for the fun of it."

Anger explodes within me as his last statement echoes within me as time seems to come to an abrupt halt and everything seems to come into view. His sister performing what seems to be a helpless act of CPR on Cooter's lifeless body, the piercing siren that explodes just outside, the damaged truck on the end of Cooter's tow truck, and the new Duke standing several inches taller than I with hateful gray eyes. "You low life scum!" I yell as I grab my metal handcuffs out from my belt before I grab onto his right wrist and surprise enters his eyes before I harshly turn him around. I quickly lock a metal cuff tightly around his right wrist and while I quickly grab tightly onto his left wrist, I breathlessly say, "You are under the arrest," I pause to tightly snap the handcuff onto his other wrist and force him to face me, "for the violent beating of Cooter Davenport and by the looks of it, for the murder of Cooter as well."

Garrett goes to say something before the rushing of feet and the clinging of tires enters the garage and we both turn around to find four paramedics running with a stretcher, medical supplies lying on top of the sheets. I numbly watch as the sister moves out of the way while saying something to them as they carefully move his bloody still body onto the stretcher and quickly places an air mask over his face. The other paramedics begin to quickly wheel the stretcher towards the door while medical work is continuing to be done on Cooter. Once again, I fall into prayer for the local mechanic, for him to be OK and pull through the beating he had taken.

"Sheriff!" a woman's voice penetrates the silence and I turn around to be face to face with the sister. Her strawberry blond hair lies wavily down below her shoulder bones while the sides of her hair is tied tightly back in a barrette of some sort, her thin bangs hang curled just above her soft green eyes. She stands confidently in front of me wearing nice fitting dark blue jeans and a tight yellow tank top while her tan arms are folded tightly against her chest. Anger and surprise radiate within her light green eyes with a hint of moister in the inner corner as if in tears. "What are you doing with my brother?"

"He's under arrest for the beating of Cooter Davenport. . .and perhaps murder," I sternly answer her before I turn to Garrett and recite his rights without interruption to my surprise.

"Under arrest?" she yells in surprise as she eyes Garrett and then me, "Are you really that stupid to think he did that to that man? Huh? We just got here. . .we stopped to get gas, he went in to pay and he found him like that. Trust me, he wasn't in there long enough to do that to that man!"

"Not according to Garrett here," I shake my head at her, "he just confessed to doing it himself."

"I did no such thing!" Garrett snarls, "I wouldn't confess to something I didn't do! I didn't do this!"

"That's not what you said. Enough talk, let's go find you your new home," I forcefully say as I turn him around to the door, "we can argue about this later."

"Sheriff!" the woman yells behind me and I slowly turn around to face her, "If you are so convinced he did this, then please let us know why he would do this to someone he doesn't even know?"

I look at her and then at Garrett. "Perhaps you were dating him and he didn't like how he was treating you. The over protective brother," I pause, "or perhaps he didn't like the price Cooter gave him. They got into an argument. One thing led to another."

"I haven't been to Hazzard in over twenty-five years so therefore, I have never met this so called Cooter in my life, not alone to be dating him," she rolls her pretty eyes while nervously licking her bottom lip, "and he wouldn't go beat a man he didn't know over a lousy price for gas! He wasn't in there long enough for even a small argument...five minutes tops he spent in there before he came back out."

I glare angrily at her. "Look woman. I am sorry you are upset about your brother here," I yank his arm back towards the door, "perhaps he can give me his own reason why he did what he did. All I know is that he confessed to doing this to Cooter and I plan on having him pay the highest price there is for doing such a thing in _my_ county!"

_*****BO DUKE*****_

An thick and awkward silence continues to grow between my cousin and I as I tiredly guide The General sharply right to turn from the dusty dirt road and onto the paved road. Our argument continues to replay itself within my head as if it were a broken stereo that keeps repeating itself as the anger and disbelief in his bright blue eyes seems to clearly look back at me. Watching the farmland slowly fade away into the small town of Hazzard, I struggle to hold back my wounded pride and my hurtful feelings that had been building up since we had gotten the car started. "We have to stop by Rhuebottom's for groceries," Luke says briskly to break the silence, "before going to Cooter's for the parts." His voice lingers heavily for a moment as we pass Cooter's dark garage and on towards the town square where the grocery store lies. "Jesse wants us home with the groceries and supplies he sent for us in time to be able to cook a decent supper tonight instead of left overs as we've been having lately."

I silently nod before I gently shove the car into park directly in front of the small and warn down grocery store as a fiery pain once again explodes in my lungs. I wince inwardly as I watch Luke pull himself out through the window before I silently glance at my pocket watch my Uncle Jesse had given me for graduation several years ago. "Damn," I whisper as I silently calculate how much time until I will take my next asthma medication only finding it to be a few hours away. _'It wouldn't help anyhow,'_ I silently think as I am reminded of the reoccurring pain in my lungs in the past couple of weeks and how nothing seems to help.

"You comin'?" Luke snaps as he looks in the window, impatience covers his face. I slowly nod before I pull myself out of the car, ignoring the pain that increases with each inhaling breath I take. "Let's get this over with. Perhaps there will be time left to go over to Cooter's," the anger in his voice seems to decrease with a hint of protectiveness.

I slowly nod as I follow him into the store. "Well hi boys," Mr. Rhuebottom waves from the front desk, a smile covers his old leathery face, "how y'all doing? How's Daisy and Uncle Jesse?"

"We're all fine," Luke nods at him as he grabs an old and cracked cart, "I guess we'll see you in a few after picking up all that we were sent to get."

"OK boys. You know where to find me if you need help," he nods at us and I begin to follow Luke to the far left isle as a piercing siren breaks through the silence.

"Someone's not having a good day," Luke mumbles under his breath as he begins reading the list that Jesse made him while picking up a few items along the way. "Hopefully," he says as it grows even closer and louder, "everyone will be ok. Perhaps just checking on someone."

"Hopefully," I doubtfully respond while dreadfully listening to the sirens while ignoring the pain and the wheezing sound that escapes with each breath. My thoughts fall onto the piercing siren and all that it could mean and back onto Cooter with high hopes of finding the part for The General when we stop by there. Looking at Luke and all that he is grabbing, I impatiently ask, "Are we about done yet? The General -"

"Look Bo," he begins to say, his voice thick with impatience as he looks back at me before he comes to a halt in the middle of the isle. Impatience quickly clears from his eyes to be filled with concern. "You OK Bo? You don't look or sound too -"

"I'll be fine," I forcefully say only for the pain to grow worse and I fight the temptation to reach for my inhaler, too proud to show my pain to my cousin, the cousin I had grown up adoring. And still do. "I just want to see," I stop to fight for air, "if Cooter has the part yet."

He looks at me skeptically for a long moment before shrugging in defeat before he glances at his own gold pocket watch. "Look maybe it would be," he stops as the ambulance wails loudly past us and we both stare silently out the store window in wonder who the ambulance is going to. Looking back at me he says, "maybe it would be easier and quicker if you run down to Cooter's while I finish up here. I'll meet you down there when I'm done here."

"Thanks Luke," I force him a smile as I slowly begin to walk back towards the entrance.

"Leave The General here," Luke calls out behind me and I nod at him before walking out into the hot late afternoon.

With the sun in my eyes and the piercing siren wailing somewhere close, I begin to walk down the street towards Cooter's. As I am well past Rhuebottom's and out of sight from Luke, I slowly grab my red cased inhaler from my pocket and I slowly inhale a couple breathes of medicine before taking deep breathes before taking a couple more inhalations. Finishing five cycles of that, I slowly pocket the inhaler, the fiery pain has gradually decreased to a dim pain with each breath I take. A dim pain to foreshadow an attack that lurks just around the corner in the near future. Dread fills me as I silently recall the attack I had last night and the pain that steadily grew within me after the attack only to die down throughout the night.

I sigh heavily in knowledge that there is no escaping the oncoming attack other than to face up to it and wait for it to blow over with the help of medicine. Medicine that I hadn't been so reliant upon the past few years as I have been the past couple of months only to remind me of the past that I thought I had left behind. Glancing back at the grocery store that now lies a block behind me, I reluctantly begin to urge myself to turn back around and tell Luke we should go home instead of Cooter's. If there is an attack, especially like last night, it would be better to be at home than at Cooter's or anywhere else. "Forget it," I stubbornly say aloud and continue to walk towards Cooter's, replacing my thoughts of my asthma onto thoughts of new car parts that should be in soon.

Reaching a block from Cooter's old and small garage, my heart comes to an abrupt halt as the old ambulance comes into sight parked in front of Cooter's garage door that lies closed. A truck and an older muscle car lies parked in front of each pump, the muscle car towing a motorcycle and a few boxes upon a trailer. I stare hypnotically at the ambulance and the lights that flash, reflecting off of the sun bathed cement. "Cooter!" I yell and a couple of people walking past stare at me before eyeing the garage. Struggling through my emotions, I quickly begin to run down the cement and across the street before reaching the drive way only a few moments later. "Cooter!" I yell again as I run into the dark garage to find a couple of paramedics pushing a stretcher in between the closed garage door and his tow truck, behind him, Rosco stands with a tall muscular man with unkept hair. An attractive woman stands behind them. They all watch the paramedics pushing the stretcher out with emotions etched across their faces, standing silently still.

"Get out of the way!" a paramedic snaps at me and I take a step back to watch them walk past me. Horror explodes within me as I look down at the stretcher to find Cooter lying silently still, covered with thick blackish-red blood, and barely recognizable through the blood and cuts that he is covered with.

I feel myself begin to shake uncontrollably with intense fear and shock as the fiery pain once again explodes in my lungs, triggered by my emotions. "Cooter," I hear myself whisper as I quickly walk back out into the sun to follow the paramedics, "That's Cooter."

"Get out of the damn way you stupid fool!" the same paramedic yells at me as he steps away from the stretcher to purposely run into me to knock me back a couple of feet, "We are here to help him to the hospital to hopefully receive the medical help he desperately needs and you are only slowing us down by not getting out of the way. I told you once before -" he stops to look over my shoulder and I glance back to find Luke standing defensively behind me, his face aghast with his own fear. Looking back at me, he continues, "to get out of the way!"

"Don't talk to my cousin that way!" Luke yells at the small broad shouldered paramedic before I feel a comforting hand land upon my shoulder and he helps me to take a step back. More worry spreads across his face as he looks at me. "Damn Bo," he shakes his head, his voice quivering before the closing of the ambulance doors attracts both our attention. Once again the piercing siren cuts through the hot humid air as the ambulance turns right on it's way to Tri-County Hospital. "Bo," he says a moment later and tightens his grip on my shoulder slightly to grab my attention. I slowly look up at him as a lone tear breaks away to trail down my right cheek, a tear of pain and fear.

"He's. . .dead," I slowly speak up and once again I can feel myself shake, "he's dead. . .Luke."

_*****LUKE DUKE*****_

Anger, disbelief, and fear rapidly explodes within my tired and numb body as I silently watch the piercing ambulance race rapidly down Main Street before abruptly turn right and out of sight. "Cooter?" I hear myself ask aloud as I stare down the empty road, listening to the piercing siren carrying Cooter farther and farther away from his garage. _"He's dead . . .Luke,"_ Bo's wheezy and slow words slowly begin to repeat themself hauntingly within me as if to answer my question to force icy sharp chills to climb my back and across my body. Struggling to ignore the harsh emotions that continues to rapidly grow within me, thoughts and questions slowly begin to form; thoughts from Cooter's edgy response to my call on the way here to Bo's asthma acting up and the ambulance we had watched drive by Rhuebottom's. The ambulance on it's way to pick up a lifeless Cooter. How could anyone hurt Cooter? And why? Cooter would never mean any harm to anyone and was always willing to lend a helping hand at any cost, often times putting other's needs ahead of his own. Yet. . .

"Blood,"Bo wheezily interrupts my thoughts and I slowly glance away from the road leading out of town to glance over at my cousin. Worry once again grows rapidly within me at the sight of his ghostly pale skin and at his thin chest heaving in and out in his painful struggle for air as his attack continues to grow. Pain, fear, and shock swarm within his baby blue eyes as he stares blankly at me for a long moment before his attention turns towards Cooter's closed garage. "Blood," he repeats, his lanky body visibly shakes in fear and shock of what he had just seen while a thin stream of tears slowly leaks from the corner of his eyes to trail down his pale cheeks.

"Look Bo," I begin to say with my right hand remaining upon his shaky left shoulder in my feeble attempt to comfort him, "they had the siren going, which normally means that -" I am interrupted by a muffled noise from within the garage. I stare at the garage for a long moment before glancing back questionably at Bo who's attention remains fixated upon the closed doors of the garage, lost in his own world of thoughts and visions of all that he had just witnessed. "Bo," I slowly speak up again, "I'm going into the garage and see who's in there. You stay right here, I'll be right out. OK?"

He responds by taking a step away before beginning to harshly cough to force his tears to quicken in pain before his coughing once again resides into loud and painful wheezing. I watch as he takes out his inhaler before I slowly turn away and walk up the drive way and to the closed walk-in door. Stepping into the dark and shadowy garage, it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to see Cooter's tow truck parked to the right with a newer model car hooked to the back. Rosco stands in between the grill of the truck and the closed garage door with a defensive grip upon the back of a tall muscular man with dark blond hair. An attractive woman with long thick reddish-blond hair stands a foot behind them, anger thick in her eyes as she stares from Rosco and onto me. "Rosco," I slowly break the silence I had created by interrupting their conversation, "what's going on? What happened to Cooter?"

"Ask this thug," he snaps shoving the man forward a step who glares coldly at me with icy gray eyes, "he came to report it while his sister was doing CPR on Cooter. Says they found him here like that."

"You don't believe him?" I ask skeptically.

"We just came into Hazzard, we stopped for gas and Garrett went in to pay," the woman says exasperated as she looks at me for help, "Garrett came out a minute later and told me what he found. I went in to help while I sent him across the street for some more help. What help we get, huh? He ends up getting arrested."

"Hush already! You can tell it to the judge," Rosco rolls his blue eyes at her as he shoves the handcuffed man past me, "we'll get the correct answer one way or another. Let's go!"

I silently watch them walk out into the hot and humid day for a long moment before I slowly walk around the tow truck and past his old desk to find a large dark black puddle in the back right corner. A wave of nausea rushes through me as I approach the black puddle to find it to be dark black-red blood, a bubbles spread throughout the puddle of blood from the heat within the garage. Instantly, vivid and intense flash backs of war rush over me and I am once again helplessly watching Rick, my best friend being shot and beaten within the deadly ambush I had led my men in on that dreadful day. Chills rush through me as I visualize Rick slowly and painfully bleeding to death on my lap, talking about his family and all that he will miss out now that he is dying while urging me to escape while I can. His brown eyes thick with pain and fear as he had spent his last moments of life in immeasurable amounts of pain and talking of his family and dreams. Dreams he hadn't achieved and never will due to the bullets and pieces of sharp shrapnel that pierced him through the deadly combat.

Voices from outside slowly penetrate through my feared flashback to gradually send me back into the shadowy garage and fresh chills climb rapidly across my cold body. Cold despite the harsh heat that radiates within the garage and outside from the hot summer sun. _"He's dead. . .Luke,"_ Bo's wheezy voice once again begins to taunt me to send my thoughts from war, to Cooter, and onto Bo who has never seen anyone beaten or shot or killed violently to see the blood, pain, and death. All of which he had just witness by seeing Cooter being strolled away upon the stretcher. More worry for my cousin begins to grow as I am reminded of how he had acted a few months ago when Jesse had fallen and had gotten hurt. How he had closed himself up within himself until Jesse was released from the hospital and everything returned to normal, and was reassured that everyone was ok. Jesse had only hit his head really hard to throw him un-conscience for a couple of days with a concussion and in need of a few stitches. But Cooter. . .

Taking a deep breath in attempt to control my emotions and thoughts, I slowly bend down and grab Cooter's favorite hat from under his truck to find it covered in blood. _"Blood. . .blood,"_ Bo says within me, his words quivering in attempt to breathe and fear as he had repeated the single word almost as if he were hypnotized by what he had just seen. Saying a silent prayer, I take a last look at Cooter's lost blood before slowly turning and walking back to the walk - in door where I had entered a few minutes ago. Stepping back out into the hot humid afternoon, it once again takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the light to find Rosco standing a few feet from Bo with the prisoner, the prisoner's sister stuck in front of him, yelling about his innocence. After a short moment, she eyes me to let her guard down and Rosco quickly takes advantage to walk past her and she quietly begins to follow them. "How could you -" Bo starts wheezily as Rosco leads the prisoner in front of him only to be interrupted by the muscular prisoner to spit thickly at him. The spit hits Bo directly on the chest before Rosco yells something at the prisoner and drags him quickly away before Bo has a chance to react to it.

"Bo," I slowly say as I place a comforting hand upon his shoulder and he watches them cross the street momentarily before glancing up at me. "Where's your inhaler?" I worriedly ask as I take in the pain and fear that remains sketched across his pale face, his thin chest panickly heaves in and out in his fight for air.

"Don't work," he forces out to begin to cough chronically for a long moment before his attention goes back onto the garage, a far away look falls across his baby blue eyes as he fights to ignore everything around him. "It hurts," he finally says still looking at the dark garage as he begins to nervously bite his lower lip.

I abruptly look back at him from following his attention towards the garage to be filled with surprise and intense worry towards his admission of pain. Bo would rather suffer than to admit to being in pain, than to admit that his asthma is acting up. Probably due to all the doctor and hospital visits he had to endure due to the severe attacks he had while growing up, all the needles, breathing treatments, and fear that had been administered in attempt to help ease his suffering and to defuse the attack. Luckily, his asthma had become better and treatable for a few years while I was at war and after war only seeming to be a nuisance every once in awhile and a source of having to take medication every morning and night.

Through the last few months that his asthma has gradually grown worse and worse as time went on forcing on more attacks, he had always denied an attack until it was too late. Saying he was fine even though it was apparent that he wasn't. Too proud or too scared to admit that it is getting worse or that he needs help. _"It hurts,"_ his admission echoes in my mind to send sadness to ricochet within me along with all the other harsh emotions that lies entrapped within me. "OK," I reluctantly nod as I help his shaky body towards the passenger door of The General. "OK. . .let's go to the hospital. Perhaps," I pause as I watch him weakly climbing into the passenger seat, "perhaps we'll get you help while waiting on word for Cooter."

He stares blankly at me for a moment before his attention once again falls upon the garage and I glance back up at the garage once again as my thoughts once again fall back upon how he had reacted to Jesse being hurt. "We'll get through this, Bo," I try to reassure him before I quickly walk around the hood to climb into the driver's window to start the car up. Backing up into Main Street, I silently listen to Bo's wheezy breathing while I allow my thoughts and emotions to run rapidly through me, my own vision falling upon the puddle of bubbly blood in his garage. Once again, questions erupt within me, questions of who would do this to Cooter and why. Questions of all that the suspects sister had said runs through me, if he didn't do it, then who? No one would want to hurt Cooter. . .

"OK, we're here," I finally break the silence that had built between us since leaving the garage as I lead Bo into the waiting room of the emergency room. A few people sit scattered around in the rows of benched cushioned seats, a couple looking at old torn magazines while a couple more sit in the corner talking quietly amongst themselves, while a middle aged woman cries into the thick shoulder of her husband. Sighing heavily, I quickly walk in between the rows before reaching the receptionist desk to find an older woman sitting behind the desk filling out paper work. "Excuse me miss," she looks up at me to stare at me with gray eyes, gray eyes that match her dark gray hair that lies in a thick bun, "we're here for Cooter Davenport."

"Who?" she asks impatiently.

"The mechanic," I slowly respond before glancing back at Bo who has now sat in the nearest seat, his eyes half closed as exhaustion settles in.

"He's in the ER right now," she replies before going back to her paper work.

"Can't you at least tell us how he is?" I look back at her as she remains on her paper work, "Look, at least tell us if he was alive when they took him into the ER! Tell us _something_!"

She sighs with exasperation before looking at me and says, "He had a small pulse and wasn't breathing on his own...that's it. Said they lost him again in the ambulance but found a pulse a minute or two before wheeling him into the ER. If y'all are lucky," she forces a sarcastic smile, "he'll be in there for a while. The longer the better...it means he's still a live at least."

I slowly nod before looking back at Bo who now sits with his head against the wall and his eyes fully closed, his chest continues to heave in and out though now slowly as he seems to slowly be giving up his fight. Looking back at the receptionist, I say, "I also want to get a doctor to look at my cousin here. He has asthma and is having a bad attack."

"He should know how to handle an attack," she responds hastily, "use an inhaler. Doesn't he have one?"

"Yes he has one!" I yell to send everyone looking at me, the receptionist jumps slightly in her chair in surprise before anger settles in, "He already used it. . .twice! And look at him! It didn't work. . .he can't breathe!"

"Relax," she rolls her eyes again as she grabs a clipboard and hands it to me, "fill this out and then we'll see what we can do."

I shove the clipboard away while shaking my head no at her. "I don't think you are listening to me or either that you don't understand! He don't have time to sit there and wait for me to fill out your stupid paper work!" I snap at her before glancing back at him to find him still asleep in spite of me yelling only a couple of feet away from him. Looking back at her I say, "He needs help _now!"_

"All the doctors are busy with other patients in the ER. He will have to wait until -"

"Is there a problem?" a tall lanky doctor with fine cut light brown hair and thin rimmed glasses turn around the corner to stand a foot away from the receptionist, his piercing brown eyes looks down at the receptionist and up at me.

"Hell yeah there's a problem doctor. Look at my cousin," I point back at Bo, "he's having an asthma attack and can't breathe and your receptionist won't provide him with any help!"

He looks down at the receptionist who shrugs slowly. "Everyone is in the ER either with that boy, or the mechanic, or that elderly man," she sighs, "I can't exactly pull one out for him."

He shakes his head in disbelief. "What about me? Or another doctor on another floor? You could have called one of them up," he snaps at her, "never mind for now Rebecca, we can talk about this later. For now, I have a patient to take care of."

She opens her mouth to say something only to shut it again as he turns his back on her. "I'm Doctor Weaver," the doctor says as he walks around the desk to me and lends out his hand and we shake hands, "what's his name?"

"Bo. Bo Duke," I respond as we approach Bo, "his asthma has been acting up a lot lately, had a bad attack last night and started to act up this afternoon. Then he went to Cooter's to get a part and he found them taking him to the ambulance which set off this attack. . .he used his inhaler twice already and nothing."

He nods at me before looking up and points at a nurse with a wheelchair. "Maybe it be best to use a wheelchair to help him to a room," he states as she hands him the handles to the wheel chair.

I nod at him before bending down to tap Bo on the shoulder and he coughs forcefully before his eyes open and a look of confusion and pain enters his baby blue eyes. "Help is here Bo," I say and motion towards Doctor Weaver and Bo begins to shake his head, "you are going to go with him and cooperate. OK? You need help."

"No. . .no," Bo shakes his head in denial as he shrinks back in his chair in attempt to get farther away from us, "I'm," he starts to begin coughing once again before falling silent, his chest seems to stop for a moment before his breathing starts again, irregular and painful, "I'm fine."

"He'll be saying he's fine on his death bed doctor. I apologize ahead of time, he hates doctors and hospitals and anything associated with any one of them," I say and he nods in understanding. Turning to Bo I say, "Bo, you go with Doctor Weaver and he will help you feel better. . .and cooperate. While you are in there, I will call Uncle Jesse. I bet by the time you are done, Jesse will be here waiting to see you. OK?"

He looks questionably at me and then at Weaver and the wheelchair before closing his eyes and more tears escape to fall down his pale cheeks. Opening his eyes, he silently nods before he slowly stands up and I help him into the wheelchair. "I wanna. . .go," he says looking up at me, "home."

"I know buddy, I know," I nod in understanding, "but you need help first. You let him help you and I'll go call Jesse. He's probably wondering where we are about now."

Bo weakly nods at me before Doctor Weaver begins to wheel him away and I silently watch them disappear around the corner as my thoughts once again fall upon the past couple of hours. Falling silently into prayer, I slowly walk back through the waiting room with everyone continuing to watch me and walk into another hallway. Following the hall to the phone, I finish my prayer to begin to think of how I should tell Jesse all that had happened while envisioning how he will react and the worry and fear that he will be plagued with.


End file.
